


Dealing with Disappointment

by IronSwordStarShield (SweetFanfics)



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Biased Narrator, Drama, Dubious Consent, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Tony Stark, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Mild comedy, Romance, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Tiberius Stone is involved you can guess where the dub-con comes in, cuz steve, disgruntled teammates to friends to lovers, implied abusive relationship (nothing explicit), loosely canon compliant to mcu but with comic throw-backs here and there, natasha stark has Issues, past Natasha Stark/Pepper Potts, past Natasha Stark/Tiberius Stone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/IronSwordStarShield
Summary: Her story starts like this: her name is Natasha Antonia Stark, she’s born on May 29, 1970, and she doesn’t know it at the time, but she disappoints her father.--This is Natasha Stark's journey.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Stark
Comments: 35
Kudos: 282
Collections: 2019 Captain America/Iron Man Big Bang





	Dealing with Disappointment

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dealing With Disappointment [ART]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21522874) by [march_hyde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/march_hyde/pseuds/march_hyde). 



> First, this story wouldn't exist if it wasn't for Jini. Last December, Jini and me jammed this whole thing out during a call and I kept puttering away at it until I realized the CapIMBB was coming up and decided this would be perfect motivation for me to finish + polish this up. 
> 
> I also have to thank Jen, who gave me a greatly needed boost of motivation when I was feeling glum & lazy. And above all, Lore, who beta'd this fic. You're a treasure (I'm so sorry for all the grammatical mistakes I subject you too).
> 
> And my art partner, anna/march_hyde who was the BEST partner I could have asked her. Her enthusiasm pumped me to work harder and to write something that would match the quality of her art (WHICH IS FREAKIN A+++++++). 
> 
> So here we are! 38k words and 11 months later, I'm extremely excited to share this story with everyone. It's been very much a labor of love and has more of me than any other story I've written.
> 
>  **IMPORTANT NOTE/WARNING:** This fic involves non-explicit references to Natasha being in an abusive relationship. It's clearly alluded too but nothing graphic happens. Then there's another situation that's involves a lot more dubious consent because Natasha being fooled into thinking that she's with someone else but again, the situation doesn't go beyond kissing before she realizes what's happening.

Her story starts like this: her name is Natasha Antonia Stark, she’s born on May 29, 1970, and she doesn’t know it at the time, but she disappoints her father. 

As she grows up, she wants what all children want: her parents’ love. More specifically, her _father’s_ love and attention. To that end, she tries her best in the way children are wont to do. She realizes, however, that her efforts aren’t good enough. What she doesn’t understand is _why_ her father’s lips turn down at the sight of her. Not until she’s six and she overhears him yelling at her mother.

“I wanted a son! Instead, you gave me a useless daughter!” 

She runs away after that, fear and hurt making her trip over her own small feet more than a few times until she’s hiding in the depths of her closet. When she crawls out, cheeks red and eyes puffy, she cuts the long hair that her mother’s so proud of and roots out the most boyish clothes she can find in her closet.

That’s the start of a long tomboy streak that she holds onto with great stubbornness. She can be what her father wants her to be. She can emulate all the characteristics of Captain America. She can be good. She can be kind. She can be brave. She can be fearless. She can be it iwhatever it takes. If she just tries hard enough, she’ll be able to catch her father’s eye and find something more than disdain or disappointment there. 

It’s one of the hardest lessons of her life, the realization that sometimes, all the effort in the world won’t change an outcome. That no matter how much she tries, Howard isn’t going to see her as anything other than a disappointment. She’s been held up against the monument of a dead man and told, “You’ll never ever be good enough.”

Resentment takes root and festers in her. She tears down her Captain America posters and shoves then into the trash. Rips apart her Cap toys. Throws her plastic Cap shield out the window. What makes Cap so special anyway? What’s so great about him that her father keeps leaving her and her mom every summer? What does he think he’s going to find on his expeditions? The man’s dead. 

Saying that to Howard’s face in a rare show of brattiness earns her a slap. She avoids him for the rest of his stay, grateful for once that she’ll be back at her boarding school within the week.

College serves as a fresh start. She wears a skirt willingly for the first time since she was seven. She lets her hair grow out past her shoulders. She wears lipstick, gets manicures, and realizes she likes how she looks in good lingerie. Her skirts get shorter, tops lower, lipstick redder. She gets just a little drunk on how much power she holds over men. One flirty look, one coy comment, and they’re throwing themselves at her feet. 

She doesn’t realize how quickly things can get ugly until there’s a night where it feels like her brain’s under water, her vision is fuzzy, and someone’s trying to pull her into a car. 

That’s how Rhodey comes into her life, her knight in old Converse sneakers. She tries to thank him by offering herself up. He shoots her a dark, annoyed look, tells her there was no way in hell he’s going to have sex with a fifteen-year-old.

“Almost sixteen,” she corrects him, annoyed beyond belief but also pulling his jacket tighter around her frame.

“Whatever. Doesn’t change my answer.”

She meets Tiberius in much the same way. It’s another party where there are too many bodies crammed into a small space, and she’s on her way to get herself another beer when she stumbles on something and winds up face-planting into a broad chest. She looks up, finds herself looking at a pretty face and grins, “Thanks for the save.”

“Anytime,” the blond guy laughs. He’s good looking, in that clean-cut, all-American, boy-next-door kind of way. Not exactly her type, but he looks like he’s interested in her and she appreciates that. “Do you need some help?”

She doesn’t, but any company is better than being alone, right?

He introduces himself; his name is Tiberius Stone. And here’s the thing about him. He _listens_ to her. He doesn’t talk down to her or laugh when she talks about the robot she’s developing for next year’s Robot Design contest. He just lets her drunkenly ramble away and tells her that he’s never met anyone like her before. She delights in his attention and it’s why she says yes when he asks her out a couple of days later. Says yes when he asks her to spend more time with him. Says yes when he says she doesn’t need anyone except him.

Looking back at it, when she reflects on her relationship with Ty, she wonders if she’d still have said yes if she’d been loved by Howard. Or if Maria had fought more for her. If she hadn’t been left out in the emotional cold; if she hadn’t craved to have someone to look at her and see _her_ … would she still have said yes to dating him?

It’s all in the past now. It’s a chapter in her life that Natasha chooses not to look back on; it hurts too much. There’s too much humiliation and shame involved. Rhodey fervently reminds her it’s not her fault that Ty’s an asshole. It isn’t anything that she’d done which led to him treating her the way he did. But the facts of the matter remain the same. Ty was a bully. He made her feel small and insignificant. He, like Howard, made her feel like she wasn’t enough. The part that stings is that she’d _tried_ for Ty. She’d tried for him in a way she hadn’t for any other person before, not even Howard. But it had never been good enough.

_You need to dress better, Nat. You shouldn’t talk so much about engineering, it’s not ladylike. I love you, Natasha, so please let me do this. You shouldn’t wear so much red, it’s too aggressive. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break your laptop. You just... make me so angry sometimes! When you don’t listen to me, I think you don’t care about me and I... I can’t lose you, okay? I can’t._

It’s only when his violence falls on her that she realizes this isn’t love. It’s possession. She calls Rhodey, who she hasn’t seen in months thanks to Ty’s mechanisms and manipulation, and asks him to please come over and help her pack her shit up. Rhodey, bless him, shows up with packing boxes and two friends, ready to get her out. She stays with him for the remainder of the year, wondering what’s wrong with her. Is she unlovable? Isn’t she good enough the way she is?

Rhodey kisses her hair, cropped short to her head again, and tells her, “Don’t be an idiot. I love you.”

“But would you date me?” She asks, needing him to say yes.

“You’re too young for me.”

“But what if we were the same age?” she insists, fingers curling in his shirt. The possibilities roll through her mind’s eye in the space between two heartbeats.

Rhodey tightens his hold on her, squeezing her tighter against his side. “I dunno, Tasha. A lot of things would be different if we were the same age. But I don’t think so.”

It’s not what she wants to hear but Rhodey’s always been honest in a way few people are with her. She’s always appreciated that about him. But she really wishes he _would_ lie right now. She stares at the movie playing on the TV instead and pretends hot tears aren’t rolling down her cheeks every time she blinks. Rhodey pretends she’s not crying either.

She goes on a couple of dates after Ty, but it’s clear that people are interested in her either because she’s rich or she’s a Stark. Worse are the people who’re interested in her because of her age. She’s never felt more unclean than after that one guy had leered at her while asking if she was really only 15. Natasha stops going on dates after that and focuses on completing her degrees as fast as she can. 

When she wins first prize at MIT’s annual robotics competition for making DUM-E at the tail-end of 16, she holds onto the child-like hope that this is impressive enough to warrant Howard’s attention. It isn’t. She graduates at 17 with a double masters but by that point, she knows better than to expect Howard to be there. Jarvis is there instead, and that’s more than enough.

It’s the years _after_ graduating that she says her schooling really started. She’s a woman in a man’s world, walking into a hyper-masculine industry where everyone looks at her and sees a frail flower incapable of, if you’ll excuse the expression, pulling the trigger. 

It immediately makes her want to prove them wrong.

She tries to get up in people’s faces. Tries to be like Howard and push her way through by force alone. It doesn’t work. People would have to take her seriously for it to work. As she bitterly tells Rhodey while pouring herself a healthy glass of Howard’s good scotch, “I don’t have enough of a dick for it to work.”

“Who says you need to play the game the way these old farts do?” Rhodey asks as he takes the bottle out of her hand. She bodily turns away to stop him from grabbing her glass too. “When have you ever been satisfied with doing things the way they’ve always been done, anyway?”

She pauses to consider that. It becomes one of those moments in her life that sticks. A life changing event if that’s what you want to call it, but Natasha calls it more of a perspective switch. Leave it to Rhodey to keep changing her life so effortlessly (she loves him so much some days). It takes a while to build a reputation that works for her but Natasha lays the foundations for the kind of businesswoman she wants to be seen as. Tough as nails with no weaknesses for anyone to exploit. Someone who keeps her cards close to her chest, revealing only enough to get the job done. All the looks, all the brains, and strong as steel; always willing to make the hard calls without flinching. 

On her 18th birthday, Howard introduces her to the Board. They see her as Howard’s daughter, not as his _heir_ . But by the time the meeting is over, she’s made they all know they’ll be working for _her_ soon enough and that it would be in their own best interest to play nice. Obie helps cement that impression with a few sharp digs; she always knew she could count on Obie to have her back.

Obie is a _huge_ help. He advises her on what to wear, how to talk to people, _who_ to talk to. He encourages her in improving Howard’s designs, telling her to do what she needs to do. “I’ll take care of Howard,” he tells her every time. She’s not sure she’d be where she is without his help.

She has a stack of patents stacked haphazardly in a box somewhere in her room before the year is out. What’s Howard’s take on all the ways she’s made his designs better? She doesn’t know. Work’s a good excuse for missing dinner and avoiding her father. And come the holidays, she takes Rhodey up on his offer to visit his family. It’s good. There are occasional moments where she can fool herself enough to believe she belongs there with them.

Her 19th, 20th, and 21st birthdays are a blur. She squeezes in as many parties as she can between doing her work. She knows that if she’s got _any_ shot of leading the company, she needs to build up support for herself. It feels dirty at first, but she tells herself it’s a necessary evil to schmooze with men who look at her and see nothing but a piece of meat that they want to get their hands on. 

And then she loses her parents. 

Anger like she’s never known before sweeps through her when she sees dirt being poured into Howard’s grave. She feels impotent at the thought that Howard will never see her be better than he could ever dream of. She’ll never make _him_ feel small like he did to her. She won’t be able to take the company away from under his nose like she’d wanted. 

She can’t deal with it. All the things left unsaid. She asks Obie to please look after the company; she needs to go away for a while. Needs to make sure her head is on straight. Obie, sweet Obie, strokes her hair back and tells her to take as much time as she needs. 

Natasha’s alone for the first time ever. No Jarvis, no Rhodey, no Obie to watch over her. She trusts the wrong people. She makes mistakes that have her raising her walls higher. “You can’t blame me,” she groans at Obie when he comes to bail her out, “How was I supposed to know he had more than E on him? Wasn’t like I asked him what else he was selling.” If she’d known, she’d have asked for the cocaine and not settled for the E.

On the last day of the first and last “vacation” she’s ever taken, she’s lying in the middle a bed with two guys and another girl when Obie comes a-knocking. It’s time to make good on her promise of becoming CEO of Stark Industries. She says fuck it and throws herself into the work. She’ll make the world see she’s twice the engineer Howard was. That’s as close as she can get to her goal now. 

And she does. The company enters a new era of success. She designs weapons no one’s ever seen before, deadly in their efficiency and more than worth their cost. She insists on being the Air Force’s primary supplier shortly after Rhodey ships out. She builds JARVIS, U and Butterfingers in her Malibu lab.

She falls in love with Rumiko. Proposes to her. Leaves her when every news agency shares pictures of Rumiko and Ty kissing on a private yacht, with barely any clothes on as they kiss. She drinks and works, works and drinks. Flies to Switzerland, Japan, Berlin, Netherlands; schmoozes with businessmen, politicians, royalty; flirts her way into many interesting beds.

It’s around this time when Pepper comes into her life. But if Natasha’s totally honest? She doesn’t remember her first meeting with Pepper. Or the second or the third. The first time she _really_ notices Pepper Potts is when this one night stand tries to make a scene at the office and Pepper very firmly, very politely, tells her to stop it before security shows her out. Natasha honestly doesn’t remember what Pepper said to the blonde lady but she remembers how pale she’d gone before scurrying away.

“Will that be all, Ms. Stark?” Pepper had asked, cool as a cucumber and not a hair out of place.

Natasha had blinked and said, “Yeah. Thank you, Ms...”

“Potts.” The corner of her lips do something funny, like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or frown. “Pepper Potts.”

“That’ll be all then, Ms. Potts.”

Life goes on, a steady boring march where Natasha’s sole delight lies in making fools out of the people who underestimate her and revolutionizing the weapon’s industry. Screw being the youngest CEO ever, she takes far more pride in the knowledge that she’s _untouchable_ in her field. And the Jericho is going to prove, once and for all, that she’s _unstoppable_.

Famous last words.

Afghanistan is the ugliest wake-up call she’s ever had, slitting the throat of her ego and leaving her with shrapnel in her chest. For all the torture they put her through, all the humiliation she was subjected to, Natasha’s grateful that they never raped her. Apparently, they considered her “unclean” and “tainted with disease” because she slept around. It’s a strange thing to be grateful for once she’s back home. 

She laughs till she cries and cries until she can’t breathe. Her diminished lung capacity really bites her in the ass there. JARVIS keeps calling to her, sounding almost concerned for an AI. She’s projecting, she knows that. DUM-E curls up by her side making sad noises but staying steady when she throws her arms around him. The arc reactor in her chest clanks against his arm and she breaks down. They’re the only ones who see her like this; the only “people” she trusts.

The next morning she announces the closure of the weapons division. Pepper and Obie have matching expressions of horror on their faces and they both try to get her to change her mind. But Pepper’s the only one who asks _why_ she made the announcement. Pepper’s earned her trust a hundred times over but _that_ is why Natasha asks for Pepper’s help with the installation of her new arc reactor. 

Natasha falls a little in love with Pepper when she scolds Natasha to _never_ ask her to do that again, jeez. She falls _fully_ in love with the redhead when she gives Natasha the old arc reactor all zhuzhed up. Natasha glances over at it so many times while working on the Mark II that DUM-E, the idiot, moves it to her workbench. Natasha makes the bot put it back in its place before resuming her work. 

There’s no replicating the sheer terrified _joy_ she feels during the first test flight of her new armor. It’s a lot like a good wine. It gets better over time. Each flight is smoother, faster, better. She’s always thought that creation was the true love of her life. But flying… it’s like a revelation.

Additional revelations that fall more under the ugly category than good? Pepper catches that _tiny_ mistake Natasha makes with the flight stabilizer, sees her crash through a panel of glass, and thinks Natasha’s losing her mind. And oh, she can’t forget about the “intervention” that Pepper and Obie hosted for her in her own damn home. She clenches down on her initial reaction to snap at Obie when he tells her the Board’s voted to push her out and then very sweetly tells him that her PTSD can only be used as a reason if they can prove the case. 

“You can send whatever shrink you want. I’ll prove I can run circles around the entire Board with both hands tied behind my back.” Neither of them look convinced but _whatever_. 

Natasha can’t shake the _look_ Pepper gives her when she’s walking out of the room. Not to be melodramatic, but it haunts her; Pepper looks at her like she doesn’t know who she’s looking at. Or maybe she’s seeing Natasha in a new light? Fuck if Natasha knows. So she seeks Pepper out at the dumb charity gala they have to attend, Natasha’s first public appearance since her return. It’s supposed to be a big thing. Honestly, all Natasha can focus on is Pepper and the stunning vision she makes in that dress. Her mouth dries out considering all the possibilities that lie before her.

But then all her plans go down the toilet when Christine bumps into her. Disgusted by what she’s just learned (what the fuck are _her weapons_ doing in fucking Gulmira?), Natasha confronts Obie. It goes badly. She’s left standing out in the cold literally, staring at the back of a man she thought she could trust and wonders, why? Why’d she _ever_ think she could trust _a man_? Even if that man had been there to help her up on her feet since she was five? 

Natasha had learned a long time ago that the world doesn’t condone women showing their anger. So throwing her purse to the ground? Letting out all the curses bubbling up her throat? Punching something? They’re not acceptable reactions to finding out she’s just been stabbed in the back by her trusted pseudo-father. 

She can only stew in her rage, feeling helpless and impotent, until she realizes her armor’s flight stabilizers can be used as weapons. The epiphany sets off a chain of events she never could have foreseen. Natasha stares at the blue light and decides there’s been more than enough death courtesy of her tech. Not anymore. Never again. She’s going to fly to Gulmira and take care of this shit herself. They’re her weapons, after all.

Things take a turn for the worse right after she’s done freeing the village and kicking Ten Rings in the ass. The Air Force almost takes her out, but she manages to talk Rhodey into not shooting her down. He’s going to have so many questions about the armor and Natasha’s not pleased about it. She hadn’t wanted _anyone_ to know about her armor, and now the secret’s out. 

Next is figuring out how her weapons have wound up in the hands of foreign terrorists. Pepper initially refuses to help her uncover a paper trail for the weapons sales, more worried about Natasha’s failing mental health than how Ten Rings have ended up with Stark weapons. Mere days after Natash’a managed to convince Pepper, Obie rips out her arc reactor and leaves her to die, though not before shredding what remains of her trust by telling her she’s outlived her usefulness.

Lying there on the floor, feeling her heart being pierced by the metal shards? She’s never felt more betrayed. Or more pissed off. She can’t count on any man _ever_ , she decides. Except Rhodey, who shows up right after DUM-E’s intrepid rescue, uniform on and pizza box in hand, ready to ask her what the hell’s going on. 

Natasha won’t say it’s easy to fight Obadiah Stane. But he makes it simpler for her by involving Pepper.It’s been a long time since Natasha has been able to channel her anger at someone physically. It doesn’t feel as good as she thought it would, watching Obie fall like a rock. Her heart breaks, a little, when she wakes up in a SHIELD facility after the fight and is notified that he’s dead. Sure, Obie played her like a violin but he was her _Obie_ …

Later, as she reads the notes Coulson has prepped for the press conference, Natasha wonders, _how is this her life?_ She’s about to get up on stage and _defend_ the father figure slash _asshole_ who tried to kill her. And the public will never know how deep Stane’s betrayal went; that he basically sold his loyalty to the U.S.A. (and to her) for a quick buck. Her life is a fucking shit show. 

So instead of using the cards, she tells the world she’s Iron Woman. That part of her life is _beyond_ amazing. She gets to help people, save _lives._ And oh, Pepper’s her girlfriend now. She’s even Time magazine’s Person of the Year!

Which is probably when Karma takes a look at her books and realizes they’re way past time-to-fuck-with-Natasha’s-life o’clock. Natasha stares at the medical results JARVIS is displaying, which tell her she’s dying of heavy metal poisoning thanks to the hunk of junk in her chest, and thinks, _right on schedule_ . _Everything seemed too good to be true for a moment there_.

Natasha figures it’ll take her a couple of weeks to figure out why her blood toxicity levels are rising and produce a cure. She doesn’t think it’s worth bothering her friends about. Why make a fuss when she’s going to be okay soon? It’s easy at first, keeping the truth from Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy. Pepper’s got her hands full with putting together the Stark Expo. Rhodey’s getting heat for not using his connection with Natasha to convince her to make the Air Force weapons. And Happy’s just unhappy that Natasha doesn’t follow boxing rules in the ring whenever they spar..

But her search for a viable element to replace the palladium in her arc reactor core is put on hold because fucking _Congress_ calls her to testify. She has to sit there and defend her choice of not sharing her proprietary tech with the government. She very sweetly informs Congress that the suit is _not_ a weapon, thank you, Senator. She never built it to be a weapon. 

Stern tries to corner her but who does he think she is? Like she hasn’t been doing this song and dance since she was seven-fucking-teen. What an asshole. She’s not going to be caught with her pants down and there’s no way the government, _any_ government, is going to have her suit. 

She can’t hide the eye roll when they bring Hammer out as a weapons expert. The man couldn’t fire a missile even if it had a huge red button emblazoned with the word on it. Natasha sits there listening to Hammer prattle on about how close they are to similar armored suits, thinks, _enough’s enough,_ and pulls out her phone _._

One quick hack later and she’s showing everyone the whole truth behind the few clips Hammer’s just shown everyone. She grins viciously when Hammer struggles to unplug the TV but it’s far too late. Everyone’s sees Hammer running away from the malfunctioning suit with a girlish squeal. Everyone hears him yell, on-screen, that making a fully functioning armored suit is going to take more time. 

She stares Stern down when she tells him, tells the world, that Iron Woman is here to stay. She’s not anyone’s weapon. She’s a defender; the people’s shield against unnatural threats. She’ll stay as long as there are crimes to be fought and villains to be defeated. She brings up the stats for all the ways she’s helped, from preventing petty crimes to eliminating terrorist threats, global and otherwise. She’s faster, more efficient, more deadly than any other known strike force. 

“My goal is world peace, Senator. Are you going to stop me from achieving that?”

The implication is clear enough and she’s pleased to see the media running with it. Pepper seems less than amused, but you can’t win ‘em all. Whatever. She’ll make it up to Pepper, and she gets to keep the Iron Woman. Sure, some people are calling her selfish for not sharing (she rolls her eyes because _seriously_? This isn’t kindergarten, people) but everyone else is questioning Stern’s motives.

She stops keeping track of that news story because she’s got more important things to do. Not die, for example. The palladium poisoning goes from a simple obstacle to something unsolvable. With a heavy heart, a sensation _not_ connected to the fucking arc reactor in her chest for once, she starts to make preparations.

Pepper gets the company because honestly, there’s no one Natasha trusts more with her legacy. Rhodey gets an armor of her own because he understands _why_ she made it and what Iron Woman stands for (and he’s the best man she knows). Happy gets her cars. But she doesn’t tell them the truth. Natasha just _can’t_. Doesn’t know why.

She also reduces her own life expectancy during that fight with Vanko in Monaco. Natasha doesn’t know what’s worse: Howard being accused of stealing someone’s designs, being the target of a madman’s revenge plot, or that Vanko knows she’s dying and laughed in her face. Turns out, none of the above. The devastation in Rhodey’s eyes when she tells him about the palladium core? _That’s_ the worst. 

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Rhodey tells her, voice so gentle it almost draws tears.

She presses her lips together and tells herself the ache in her chest is just the fucking shrapnel. He clasps her arm and she tips into his shoulder, exhaling a shuddering breath because if she doesn’t let all that damn air out, she’s going to _cry_. Full out, “I-can’t-breathe-because-I’m-crying-too-hard” sobbing. She wants to kiss him so bad and he lets her. It’s a gentle, tentative kiss, the first comforting touch she’s had since she started pushing her loved ones away and Natasha can’t help but burst into tears, admissions quickly following in their wake.

She feels like shit because she shouldn’t be unloading on Rhodey. _Pepper’s_ the one she should be opening up too. _She’s_ Natasha’s girlfriend! But she’s petrified. She’s going to let Pepper down. She’s _already_ disappointed Pepper by not going to her first. But she _can’t_ tell Pepper that her days are numbered. Natasha would sooner cut her own heart out than see Pepper’s beautiful face be twisted up in fear. 

Ultimately, Natasha accepts his help. Rhodey holds her, promises he’s going to use whatever resources he has to help her. She tells him she’s made something for him, something she wants him to have after she’s… gone, but when she tries to tell him more, Rhodey rolls his eyes and tells her, “You can give me that damn gift once we’ve fixed you up. You owe me for at least five birthdays.”

She loves him so much it hurts sometimes. He’s the bestest best friend she could have asked for. He’s one of the three best people she knows and she tells him as much. He tells her to stop buttering him up and tell Pepper what’s going on already. “The more you delay this, the more upset she’s going to be.”

Bolstered by Rhodey’s words, and fearful that she may compound the hurt, Natasha visits Pepper in her office, consolitary strawberries in tow. Long story short, it’s a mild disaster of an impromptu meeting. (She’s not sure Pepper’s ever mentioned being deathly allergic to strawberries. Natasha would have remembered a crucial detail like that.... probably.) The bad start leaves Natasha floundering. Pepper sighs and tells her to go talk with Natalie and _please_ finalize the birthday party plans.

Ten minutes later, Natasha stares at the birthday party plans Natalie, Pepper’s new PA, has drawn up and wonders, what’s the point? Her time on this earth is painfully limited and she doesn’t want to spend it drunk off her ass with people who don’t care about her. She tells her new PA to cancel the party. If it’s going to be her last birthday, Natasha’d like to spend it with the people who really _matter_. Natalie tries to convince her to have a big blow out but Natasha puts her foot down. It’s just her, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy.

Rhodey makes so many pointed comments that Pepper and Happy get suspicious _fast._ Her last birthday party winds up devolving into a yelling fest where her girlfriend and her bodyguard tell her she’s being the world’s biggest idiot while her best friend just sits there watching it happen. Pepper yells, Natasha yells back, Rhodey tells them to take it down a notch. They only stop when Pepper tearfully asks if she’d _ever_ planned to tell them? Natasha doesn’t know what to say because... she doesn’t want to lie. Not now.

Pepper tries to resign, saying that Natasha only made her CEO because she was dying. That’s true but Natasha explains why it has to be Pepper, why it was _always_ going to be Pepper. She apologizes _profusely_ for not telling Pepper but she keeps stumbling over her words, unsure how she can explain that she’d just wanted to protect Pepper. Pepper smacks her in the shoulder and tells her, “Stop being so noble! I’m a big girl! I can take care of myself.” 

On a similar note, she also takes Rhodey down to her lab and shows him the Mark II armor she’s made for him.

“I don’t want the military to have my tech. I don’t trust them. But I get they’re going to make my life hell if I don’t give them _something_ ,” she tells Rhodey, who is circling the armor. “But I didn’t want to give access to this tech to just anyone. I trust you to use this the way it was meant to be used.”

“To protect people,” Rhodey says. 

Natasha smiles. “Got it in one.”

She’s in the middle of comforting Happy because he started crying when she’d told him she was going to leave her car collection to him when JARVIS announces they have visitors. 

“On screen,” Natasha orders. “On the TV.” 

The unexpected visitor is Natalie. She PA is idling in front of the private entrance that leads up to Tony’s penthouse. Natasha stares for a moment, turning to ask Pepper, “Did you tell her to come?” 

But Pepper shakes her head. “I made sure my schedule was clear today.”

Puzzled, Natasha turns back to the TV. “JARVIS, patch me through to the gate speaker.”

“Audio on,” the AI informs her.

“What’re you doing here Natalie?” She asks, watching the red-head whip around and stare straight into the camera. 

“I told her to bring me here,” Fury says as he steps into the camera’s sight. 

Natasha groans as loud and theatrically as she can. The last time she’d seen him had been after her Iron Woman press conference, when he’d tried to recruit her for his initiative. What had he called it? Revenger Initiative? No. The _Avengers_ Initiative. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Making sure this isn’t your last birthday,” Fury snarks back. “Where are your manners, Stark? You gonna let us in or not?”

“Did you bring me a birthday present?” Natasha asks instead because there’s few things in life that bring her as much joy as annoying Nick Fury.

Fury stares unamused into the camera. “How about a solution to your poisoning problem?”

Natalie holds a vial up to the camera. 

“Let them in JARVIS.”

Natasha buries her face in her hands when Natalie reveals herself to be a SHIELD agent, code name Black Widow. Jesus. _Jesus Christ_ . Was she spossed to be some kind of honeypot or something? And Pepper wonders why Natasha’s got trust issues. It’s because of shit like this. Fucking _hell_. Silently, she’s glad she never said anything incriminating in front of the spy. She looks up when Fury places the vial on the table with a soft clink. 

“It’s lithium dioxide. It’s going to slow down the poisoning but it’s not a long-term solution. Hell, it’s not even a _short-term_ solution. You can only use it a couple of times before it's completely ineffective.”

“And delaying the inevitable by days is going to be helpful _how_?” 

Natalie, sorry, _Natasha_ , speaks up, “It’ll give you more time to try and find a viable element for your arc reactor.”

Natasha hates spies. She really, _really_ hates spies. She frowns at the red-head, wondering yet again how the _fuck_ do these two, and SHIELD by extension, know about this when she hadn’t told _anyone_. Part of her thought process must readable on her face, because she gets a vaguely apologetic oook in return, though no explanations. 

“I’ve told Phil Coulson to bring some of your father’s material to you. There might be something in there that could help,” Fury says.

“Might be,” Natasha scoffs. “Might as well ask for help using a fucking crystal ball at this point.”

When Coulson drops off all the boxes of Howard’s junk at her place, Natasha sourly thinks, _One hell of a birthday gift_. She sneers uncharitably at Howard’s ghost telling her she was his greatest creation.

“Fuck you,” she hisses at her father. “Fuck _you_ , Howard.”

When she stares up at the hologram of the new element she’s rediscovered, she rethinks the same thought but with a lot more awe. 

“Fucking hell…” Natasha whispers as she stares at her new arc reactor. “Fuck you, Howard.”

She gets a chance to test it out almost immediately after Vanko threatens to destroy everything she loves. Natasha calls Rhodey and Pepper, warning them to be on the lookout for anything suspicious. None of them expect Hammer’s drones to go rogue but Natasha’s glad they’re there to take care of it. 

If she had to rate how awful it felt to be chased through the city while being pursued by killer drones _and_ trying to keep damage to a minimum? Natasha would rank it a solid 8, right between getting a bikini wax after letting her hair grow out and getting trapped in the same car as her stalker. It’s not the worst situation she’s been in but it makes her heart trip over itself and her mouth curse a blue streak. Natasha thinks it’s over when they manage to knock Vanko down, but the bastard had an ace up his sleeve—he’s going to blow up the Expo.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , Natasha curses silently, no breath left to give the words life as she rushes towards Pepper. _If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself_.

Rhodey’s yelling over the comms at Widow, who is frantically typing away at her end, “Isn’t there some way to turn the self-destruct sequence off?”

“There’s not enough time! The most we can do is to get people out of the blast radius.” 

“Already on it,” Rhodey answers.

Natasha barely hears him, too busy tracking the area around the Expo building, helping stragglers out even as she wonders where the fuck is Pepper, where the hell is s— _there_! 

Pepper turns seconds before Natasha swoops in, picking her up as she yells, “Got Pepper! Anyone else in the building, JARVIS?”

“I cannot identi—”

The rest of the AI’s words are buried underneath the Expo blowing up. It’s a chain of explosions, the shockwave causing Natasha to wobble and forcibly land on top of the nearest building. Pepper hangs onto her shoulders, trembling as she stares with wide eyes at the damage.

Similarly, and a lot shorter of breath, Natasha takes in the larger picture and is beyond relieved to notice that most of the destruction seems limited to the Expo. There’s just one other fire burning in the distance, probably caused when two of the drones flew straight into a fucking red mailbox. Fucking Hammer Tech. 

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“That wasn’t—” Pepper turns to stare incredulously at her before she slaps her hand against Natasha’s armored shoulder. That’s gonna hurt her more than it hurt Natasha. “ _The Expo blew up!_ ”

“No one died. We made sure everyone got out. We can always rebuild.”

The fire that burns in Pepper’s eyes... Natasha feels her stomach give out in relief. Pepper’s saying something about being more responsible and collateral damage and does Natasha even realize how much this will hurt the company? 

Natasha shakes her head, reaching out to rub her thumb against the dark streak that’s covering up the freckles on Pepper’s left cheek. “You’re more important than the company, Pep. I can build hundreds of buildings. But there’s only one Pepper Potts.”

The shock that spreads on Pepper’s face has Natasha grinning because oh, how she loves this woman. How could Pepper ever doubt how much she means to Natasha? Natasha kisses her lips tingle, not because they’re a little burned, but because she’s kissed Pepper so many times.

Fury tells her to show up at a secret SHIELD office for a debriefing. Natasha quips, “Wasn’t aware I was your minion now, Fury. I expect a pay that’ll match my current salary, with full benefits.” 

Ignoring her, Fury sits down across the table and slides a thin folder to her. Natasha stares at the folder, looks back at Fury, and says, “If you’re going to ask my opinion about something, I gotta tell you... You can’t afford my consultancy fee.”

“Open the damn file already.”

“Since you asked _so_ nicely.”

Natasha flips the brown folder open and picks up the first page. It’s an evaluation report, Natasha realizes in surprise, about whether or not she’s a good candidate for the—

She lowers the paper and gives Fury a mildly annoyed look, “Didn’t I say I wanted _nothing_ to do with that boy band you’re putting together?”

“Widow would be part of the team. It’s not a boy band.”

Like _that_ makes her feel better. But Natasha stares at Widow’s recommendation: “Iron Woman, yes. Natasha Stark, yes.” and wonders... does she want this? There’s going to be so many egos clashing even without taking her own swelled head into consideration. But she knows, as sure as the sun rises, the day will come where the world is going to need people like her. There are going to be threats that will _need_ a team to neutralize them. 

With a quiet sigh, Natasha puts the evaluation form down and closes the folder. “I’m gonna need more details before I say yes. I want to make sure you’re not going to make us do anything...”

“Shady as fuck?” Fury asks sardonically, smiling sarcastically at her.

Natasha smiles back, saccharine sweet, “Exactly.”

She doesn’t want to be the team leader, Natasha makes that clear. She’ll bankroll them and provide them with technology and aerial support. A place to stay if necessary. She’ll gladhand politicians and drum up support for the Avengers in the right circles. and she won’t join if Rhodey isn’t extended an invitation as well. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Natasha says, pausing in the doorway. She turns to face Fury as one last condition occurs to her. “I’m not working from a SHIELD office. I’m gonna work from home. I doubt you guys could afford outfitting my lab from scratch.”

Fury waves a bored hand at her, “Whatever gets you working. Widow’ll give you your first assignment.”

Her first assignment is to stop General Thaddeus Ross from convincing the World Security Council that Emil Blonsky, aka The Abomination, should be part of the Avengers.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” Natasha wonders aloud, swivelling back and forth on her chair. “JARVIS. Throw up everything you can find about Thaddeus Ross and Emil Blonsky. Let’s see what we’re working with..”

Know thy enemy seems like as good a place to start as any right?

One solid hacking/information binging session later, Natasha knows everything she needs to, and has categorized them both as dangerous elements. If it was up to her, she’d take them entirely off the board. Unfortunately, Fury wants to keep Ross in play, so she plots.

She decides to take the direct approach. Acting cute and coy works wonders. As she watches Ross drunkenly stumble out of the bar, Natasha makes a mental note to make some phone calls. Ross needs to be taken down a couple of pegs (and maybe have a star or two knocked off his shoulders). Blonsky’s off to SHIELD custody, and she needs to see if she can find Bruce Banner and offer him a helping hand. 

It’s more tasks on her already loaded plate.There’s R&D shit she has to handle for the company, which is swiftly becoming _the_ company in the clean energy industry; her armor upgrades; other company issues that come up; dates with Pepper to squeeze in; and her SHIELD consultancy on the side. That last one involves answering all sorts of weird but interesting questions.

What’s this alien tech do? Is it possible to weaponize it? Is it possible to develop a weapon that can essentially be a freeze ray? What’s a viable way to unfreeze a human body without sending it into shock? Is there some way to enhance the range of these communication devices? What’s the chemical breakdown of this non-human DNA? PS—it’s not animal DNA either. She feels like the SHIELD version of Google or something. 

In between jobs, she discreetly places some bugs in SHIELD’s system so that she’ll always have a backdoor into their servers. If anyone asks, she’ll call it a lesson to be learned in cybersecurity. All that money and they can’t invest in a decent firewall? Sloppy. Natasha takes care not to poke deep into SHIELD’s files; she doesn’t want to draw attention to herself. But Natasha _also_ doesn’t want to be caught unaware again either. So she sets up some alarms, a thread connected to a door handle and a bell, if you will. If anyone at SHIELD reports anything big enough... Natasha will know.

For a while, life is good for Natasha. Pepper’s handling the company beautifully, the arc reactor Natasha’s building for the upcoming Stark Tower is on track, there’s no world-threatening danger, she’s _this_ close to figuring out where Bruce Banner is hiding, and her favorite pizza place has put a new pizza on the menu in her honor. 

Then, one fine day, one of the bugs she’s planted in SHIELD’s system goes off. Natasha’s at the Stark Industries Manhattan offices, sitting with the other C-level executives as they finalize plans for Stark Tower’s inauguration when her phone buzzes inside her jacket pocket.

As the COO talks about ROI and how soon they expect to break even, Natasha pulls her phone out. A SHIELD facility in the Mojave Desert was just destroyed. The security footage shows a pale man with dark hair and electric blue eyes walking out of the chaos with what looks like a glowing cube in hand. 

Ignoring her surroundings, Natasha digs deeper into the incident. She reads up about Project PEGASUS and struggles not to curse aloud because _fuck_ . _Fuck, fuck,_ **_fuck_ ** . Of all the stupid things to try and do, and she’s not talking about studying this Tesseract thing. No, that part she supports (even if she’s mildly peeved she wasn’t invited to _that_ particular party). The part that royally pisses her off is trying to weaponize something SHIELD clearly didn’t fucking understand. That’s just plain old stupidity, nothing more and nothing less. 

An ugly feeling brews in the pit of her stomach as she drives back to Stark Tower. Something is coming. Something that Natasha hasn’t planned for, never expected. Natasha gnaws on her thumbnail and tries to understand why she feels so unsettled. Then someone hits the fast-forward button.

One minute she’s at Stark Tower trying to understand what the Tesseract does, next minute Widow’s calling her to fucking Germany to help take down the sleaze ball who blew up the SHIELD lab, then she’s needling _Captain fucking America_ in a quinjet, and then Thor, actual fucking _Thor_ , Norse god of thunder, crashes the party. He’s looking for his brother, Loki, the god of mischief, who happens to be the douche lord they’ve just picked up.

Natasha doesn’t know when she got on the crazy train but she kind of wants out. The desire intensifies when Thor catches sight of Loki tucked under the tarp in the corner, grabs him by the collar, and _flies away_.

(Quick side note about Captain America: Rogers is taller, blonder, and a lot more angry-broody than she’d imagined. He is both larger than life and underwhelming at the same time. He’s handsome, even if he looks one wrong comment away from punching someone in the face.) 

She’s _barely_ processed what happened when the Captain just fucking _jumps out of the plane after Thor_ . Natasha splutters uselessly at the spot where Rogers was _just_ standing as Widow asks, “Did he even take a parachute?”

_Men_.

She jumps after him. Not to catch him, but because she doesn’t want to miss out on all the fun. Natasha finds Thor and Loki talking and tackles the fuck out of Thor. Their little tête-à-tête is broken up when lightning begins to crackle around Thor’s fingertips.

_Maybe I shouldn’t have said he was wearing his mom’s curtains_ , Natasha muses, flying back a second before lightning strikes where she’d been standing. “If that’s the way you’re going to play, we’re _definitely_ not handing Snape over to you.”

The chase ends when she runs into Captain America, hurriedly telling him that Thor wants to take Loki back to someplace called Asgard and is ignoring SHIELD’s jurisdiction. She’s glad she’s not on the receiving end of the Cap’s frown, she’ll say that. They try to reason with Thor but he refuses to listen. Thor only pauses, _really_ pauses, when his hammer slams against Cap’s shield and it does nothing except send reverberations through the trees. 

“There’s a dick metaphor here somewhere,” Natasha points out for no other purpose besides she can. Cap ignores her and Thor looks confused. What a waste of a good almost-joke.

As Widow brings the quinjet over, Thor quietly apologizes for attacking her so suddenly. Natasha waves the apology off, “We’ll call it even if you take Cap up and I’ll take your brother.” Thor readily agrees.

Once they’re back in the quinjet, Natasha does a quick analysis of who’s the best person to sit next to. The guy Howard wouldn’t shut up about, the spy, the alien guy with a magical hammer, or the alien guy who just tried to whammy some people in Germany using his magic stick. 

She’s not going to lie, it’s a toss-up between Loki and Thor and the only reason she picks Thor is because of Mjolnir. The shit he tells her kinda blows her mind in the best of ways. She’s always believed that there had to be intelligent life out there but she _never_ would have guessed that there are _dwarves_ who can forge _weapons_ out of _stars_ . She’s _this close_ to begging Thor to take her to this Nidavellir place when they arrive at SHIELD HQ. 

Now, Natasha’s used to disappointing people left and right. It’s kind of part and parcel of who she is. It’s been a part of her since she was in fucking _diapers_. So she doesn’t even know _why_ it hurts when she takes her helmet off and Cap asks, gaping, “You’re a girl?”

It’s the tone that rubs against her nerves like sandpaper. It’s surprise, sure, but there’s an odd tint of disappointment in there. Like he doesn’t think she’s good enough. Same shit, different day. And yet it stings all the same.

“Raise your hand if you care,” Natasha snarks in return before turning to tap Thor’s chest with the back of her hand. “Remember, you promised you’re gonna let me get some readings from your hammer once we’re done dealing with your brother.”

Widow raises an eyebrow at her comment but doesn’t say anything else. Thor bows his head in agreement. Natasha does her best to ignore Cap during the rest of the meeting but it’s kind of hard given that he’s dressed up like the American flag. And there’s the fact that he won’t be a good Man-Out-of-Time and shut up while the rest of them are talking. 

Natasha rolls her eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of her head when Rogers delightedly goes, “I got that reference!” about the flying monkeys. What’s he want? A gold star? Did they even have gold star stickers back in 1940-whatever? It’s a blessing to be out of his way and tucked away in a lab with Bruce Banner doing science, a balm to her aggravated nerves to be around a fellow scientist. And it helps that she’s so very curious about Banner’s alter ego.

She slides up next to him on her chair, peppering him with questions while JARVIS does his thing. She’s in the middle of asking him what transforming into a big green rage monster feels like while poking him in the side, when the greatest test of her patience walks into the lab, still wearing that eyesore of a costume. If she ever finds the fanboy who made that costume, they’re going to have words.

Rogers tells her to stop annoying Banner and she wishes she could shove his face into something. Like a wall. God. Everything Howard told her about the guy, yet he’d failed to mention what a sanctimonious asshole Rogers was. Just because he’s a walking, talking American flag does that mean he’s gotta act like he’s got a flagpole up his ass too?

When he talks about staying focused on the mission and trusting Fury to know what he’s doing, she sweetly tells him that people who don’t know shit, shouldn’t be giving their opinion on said matter. He looks like he’s swallowed a lemon before he leaves. Bruce gives her this look that she refuses to parse. Instead, she changes the subject. He’s the first person, outside of her three closest friends, she tells about the shrapnel in her chest and how the arc reactor is keeping her alive. 

The distraction doesn’t work, unfortunately. Bruce just asks, “What’d you mean when you said Steve didn’t know what he was talking about? When he said we needed to trust Fury?”

Trust is a funny thing. Sometimes, it takes years to build trust with someone. Other times, it takes only a heartbeat to know that you can put your heart or your life in someone else’s hands. And she knew, as soon as she’d spent five minutes alone with Bruce Banner, that she can trust him. So she tells JARVIS to pull up the information about PEGASUS and turns the screen towards Bruce. She tells him about Phase 2 and how she’s not sure that trusting Fury is such a great idea. 

“You know better than anyone what a bad idea it is to play around with shit you don’t fully understand. And trying to make weapons out of alien tech? That’s just about _the worst_ idea you could have. Ever.”

Banner takes his glasses off, pinches the bridge of his nose, and exhales slowly. “We have to tell the others.”

Their planned confrontation goes a little off track when they find out that Rogers is a step ahead of them. Natasha stares at the weapon Rogers has found somewhere in the depths of this helicarrier and curses under her breath. She didn’t realize SHIELD was that far ahead. She also didn’t expect Rogers to go sticking his nose into SHIELD’s business either. And then things go _really_ off track when she and Rogers wind up sneering at each other’. 

“Little girl in a suit of armor. Take that off and what are you?” he sneers at her.

“Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, the person who brokered world peace,” Natasha snaps back without missing a beat. When’s the last time she wanted to clock someone in the face this much? Forget the fact that she’ll fuck her hand up. And then he goes and tells her to stop pretending to be a hero. She tells herself the miserable twist in her gut isn’t a precursor to her wanting to cry because _fuck him_ . What the fuck does he know about her? _Nothing_. So he doesn’t get to judge her. 

“Like I need advice from a lab experiment gone wrong. Face it, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a _bottle_.” 

Rogers shifts his weight, moving just slightly to her right but it’s enough to clear her line of sight and reveal that Bruce has picked up Loki’s sceptre. With a blink, Natasha shoves Steve out of the way and says, “Bruce? What’re you doing?”

The tension snaps like a wire. Even Bruce looks surprised to find the sceptre in his hand. And then the Helicarrier explodes. She’s sent flying back into a wall, choking on hot air and smoke as she struggles to her feet. Her back is gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow. Rogers is blinking in surprise at her as he gets up as well.

“JARVIS,” she croaks, angrily slapping Rogers’ hands away as he tries to shepherd her out the door. “Suit.”

“At once, sir.”

She tells herself to suck it up and ask Rogers for his help to get the Helicarrier started again. It’s a really fucking close call, closer than she’ll ever admit, but they do it. She’s high off her success as she steps out of her armor, grinning ear-to-ear. She even managed to save Rogers’ ass in the end there, too. A decent day’s work all in all.

Natasha’s high off her success when Fury tells them that in the struggle, not only did Loki escape but he also killed Coulson in the process. She sits in stony silence listening to Fury talk about... God. Who even knows. There’s too much static buzzing in her ears, in her blood, for her to pay attention. She’s stuck thinking about Phil’s cellist. Who’s going to tell her? What the hell was he thinking? Will she ever know the truth of how Phil died? What the _hell_ was he thinking?

She walks out when Fury starts talking about the Avengers Initiative again. She can’t deal with this shit. She just... can’t. She presses the heels of her palms against her eyes, grinding her teeth in frustration. No one told her being a hero would suck this much. It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated. It wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to be this way.

And when Rogers shows up after her, Natasha can’t help but look up in askance because _seriously_ ? Why’d he come after her? And hey, also? Is it possible for this man to go like, _two minutes,_ without saying something that’ll piss her off? Is that possible? She doesn’t think it is. Because of them, their little rag-tag group of whatever? _Soldiers?_ Fucking _hell_. She’s just a regular person who wants to make the world a better place than when she came into it. Is that too much to ask? 

Plus, who the fuck does this man think he is? For a second there, back when he’d tossed that weapon under Fury’s nose and demanded an answer, she’d assumed there was something more to him. More than his uniform and belief that he knew better because he was a guy. (For a minute, she’d foolishly assumed that Captain America would judge her based on her merit and not just her sex). But a guy he is, with an ego to match.

She blinks at that, two connections coming together with a click. “Son of a bitch!”

Somehow, in between bitter thoughts about Rogers, revelation strikes.

She runs out the door, yelling at Fury through her phone and at Rogers who is jogging behind her, “New York! Loki’s going to use my tower to open the portal!”

It’s a battle of a lifetime, the day the world changed forever. But she’s too busy not dying to really think of things like that. And then... then she’s too busy flying to her death to care. 

She won’t say she had been particularly enamored with space. But there were moments where she’d looked up at the night sky and thought, _pretty_. Now? Being _in space_ , seeing the stars being blotted out by an alien army unlike anything she’s ever seen? All Natasha can feel is fear. And then vindication when the nuke she’d carried on her back flies into the heart of the army. Take _that,_ assholes. With one last exhale, Natasha tells herself she’s done all she can and that’s that. She saved New York. Maybe even the world. That’s a great way to end things, right? 

Wrong. 

She wakes up with a gasp, Captain America hovering over her with the sun haloed behind him like he’s some kind of patriotic angel. Disoriented and wondering what kind of weird heaven this is, Natasha struggles to breathe as she wheezes out, “What the hell just happened?”

“You did it,” Rogers says, eyes sparkling with, dare she say, pride and admiration. This is the most human she’s seen the man, with his hair disheveled, dirt and grime smeared over his cheek, a boyish grin on his face. It’s a good look on him. “We won.”

“Oh.” She blinks up in surprise. Not dead then. Cool. “Anyone else want to get something to eat? I’m starved.”

A painfully long debrief later, Natasha chews slowly on her shawarma and wonders why it doesn’t taste better. Like. She almost _died_. Isn’t food supposed to taste better after that? Does adrenaline crashes affect the way food tastes? She makes a mental note to make JARVIS look that up later.

Pepper calls and yells at her loud enough that the sound of her voice through the phone jerks Rogers out of the ennui he’d succumbed to and he stares at Natasha’s phone with great disdain, shifting to alarm when Pepper starts cursing and crying and Natasha tries to soothe her in vain. He goes an alarming shade of red when Pepper says I love you and Natasha says it back. 

As she finishes the call, Natasha raises a challenging eyebrow and asks, “What? Got a problem with my girlfriend?”

Rogers shakes his head, “No ma’am!” and the only reason why Natasha doesn’t laugh is because she’s had _years_ of experience in schooling her reaction. That and Rhodey walks in through the door, War Machine armor on and everything, asking, “What’d I miss?”

She jumps on him with a laugh, affectionately kissing his faceplate before telling him with great glee, “You missed _all_ the fun!”

The next day, they’re all going off their own separate ways and she’s left to her demons, old and new. She wakes up all sweaty and short of breath next to Pepper, who sleeps on, blissfully unaware of how loud Natasha’s ragged breathing is. She wants to leave the bed, hide in her workshop, outrun the darkness, but Pepper had asked her not to leave their bed, so Natasha stays. She buries her face in her girlfriend’s loose braid and wishes that Pepper would wake up (but also _please don’t wake up please don’t wake up I can’t take more of your sympathy because it’s going to run out too soon and you’ll leave me like everyone else_ ). 

There’s not a lot to do in the moment except wonder; Natasha thinks about a lot of things in the dead of night. Including the idea that it would pay to keep the team together instead of activating them only when there’s some world-ending threat. Next morning, she’s on the phone with Fury trying to talk him into turning Stark Tower into Avengers HQ.

“I’ve got the A up and everything,” she quips.

Dare she say that Fury sounds almost interested when he says, “I’ll send someone over to check your plans and see if they’re up to standard.”

“They’ll be _above_ standard, thank you. That’s the Natasha Stark promise.”

Two days later, Natasha screams and tasers Clint after he drops out of her office ceiling and onto the glass table below. Her poor glass table; it didn’t deserve to go out like that. At least he took out that ugly moving sculpture thing Pepper had gifted her a couple of months ago.

“What the hell, Stark?” the man yells.

“Don’t you ‘what the hell’ me, Barton! Who the fuck decides to come into an office through the vents? Jenny! Call whoever’s in charge of the building design and tell them I want lasers installed in the vents to stop riff-raff from dropping by!”

Barton refuses to pay for damages. She threatens to fill his bed with chestnuts, burrs and all. The head of security looks like he’s ready to have an aneurysm. Natasha can’t tell if he’s ready to give his two week notice or burst into tears. They’re kicked out of her office until the cleaning crew comes and cleans all the damn glass out of the carpet. She takes Barton to the closest conference room and shows him her plans for the tower. And none too casually asks why Fury sent him and not Widow.

“Widow’s busy.”

“And you weren’t? I thought SHIELD agents were busy making sure all that Chitauri gear didn’t wind up in the wrong hands.”

“Active agents _are_ ,” he tersely corrects her.

_Ah_ . Well… that’s yet another unexpected ordinance that’s blown up in her face. At least there’s no physical shrapnel involved this time. Eager to change the subject, she taps one of the Avengers-only floors and asks him to make sure that the training room and the gym are all up to snuff. See? She knows how to delegate. She tries to get him to decorate the suites too but he’s got the worst taste in interior decorating she’s ever seen. A _plaid_ sofa? For the main living room? Fuck that noise. She asks Pepper to rehire the people who did the tower the first time around and tells Barton to stick to his floor.

He’s an interesting guy, that Barton. He doesn’t trust her off the field, which isn’t new, but it’s not the usual “You’re a girl and I don’t trust you to know jackshit about engineering.” It feels more personal: “I just don’t like you and I’m not gonna hide it”. He looks at her sometimes like he can’t figure her out. Natasha tries not to preen every time she gets that look because she _knows_ she’s just done something to exceed his expectations and that’s her singular joy in life.

“Why the fuck are you doing this?” he blurts out one day.

Natasha blinks in confusion before replying, “Because I don’t want to come in here one day and find out you’ve decorated the tower like a colorblind frat boy? Also, lace curtains look good?”

Barton rolls his eyes and elaborates, “Why are you helping me? You didn’t need me to help you with your little pet project. You think if you get on my good side, I’ll put in a good word with Fury or something?”

“I’m helping because all of us deserve a second chance, Barton. And in your case? I think you needed a reason to stop feeling sorry for yourself.” There’s a quick flash of anger in his eyes that makes her think, _good_. He hasn’t given up. “You’re not going to make things better by just stewing in your own mistakes. You’ve got to get up and start making things right.”

Dare she say her words spark some respect in the man’s eyes? Not that it means much to her. She’s just tired of seeing him angrily mope around. Nothing irritates her more than the lack of efficiency, especially when it’s hampered by one's own bullshit.

Anyways. Eventually Barton fucks off back to SHIELD. A couple of days later Fury sends her a message saying Cap, Barton, and Widow are going to move in at some point during the next 30 days. She’s expected to find Bruce and Thor and inform them of their new living situation as well. Natasha loves the part where Fury doesn’t tell her how she’s expected to contact Thor on Asgard. She guesses he wants her to figure that part out herself. Sucks to be him, because Natasha joins up with Selvig and Thor’s girlfriend, Jane, and they get a communicator built in 48 hours easy.

Barton shows up first with two huge duffle bags of his shit. Widow is next, bringing two enormous suitcases and two duffles of her own. One of the bags clatters in a way that makes Natasha suspect it’s filled with knives. She hopes she’s wrong. Thor drops by next, landing neatly on the landing bridge with a pile of gilded trunks and a stuffed... _something_ head under his arm. If an octopus had a threesome with a deer and a bear, that’s what the stuffed head would look like. _Maybe_.

He hands the stuffed animal(?) head to her and asks her to mount it in the living room or another suitable room worthy of the creature. She tells Barton she’ll give him a $100 if he’ll put the taxidermy nightmare in Steve’s room. Barton snatches the thing out of her arms and trots away.

“Good minion,” she calls after him.

“Contract employee,” he laughingly corrects. 

Widow shakes her head but there’s a smile on her face and she doesn’t stop them. Natasha pretends she can’t see it and instead turns to Thor, asking what’s in the boxes. As it turns out, they’re filled with Asgardian gifts for them all _and_ decorations for his suite. She delightedly examines her gift, an Asgardian metal ball that hovers on its own. She turns it round and round in her hands trying to make sense of its physics. It’s the best gift she’s gotten in a while. Thor is officially her favorite. Natasha says as much. 

Barton looks up from where he’s checking out his new Asgardian knife, “I thought I was your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite contract employee. Does that count?”

“I’ll take it.”

She forgets about Rogers moving in until she runs into him a couple of mornings later. She’s trying to finagle her tie into submission while munching on the last bite of a stale-tasting protein bar, a folder under her arm and her phone pressed against her ear. Natasha walks into the kitchen and sees Steve standing there drinking milk straight out of the carton and is torn between disgust and annoyed resignation.

Some wires get crossed in her brain and “ew” and “oh it’s you” comes out as “Ew, it’s you.”

If she had a hand free, she’d smack her own forehead. 

Rogers is so surprised he actually chokes on the milk, rivulets of white dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. He looks like the kind of idiotic she feels and that’s a small comfort. She pretends she didn’t just make a fool out of herself, pours herself a coffee, and reassures Mike that no, no, that wasn’t for him. Please keep talking about Cooper’s idea to boost efficiency of the new solar panels. She leaves Rogers to his disgusting milk-drinking ways.

It takes another three weeks to finagle Bruce into joining their gang but she makes it happen. And things are... decent. That thing she said about so many egos being together in one place being a bad idea? It still applies. But it’s also _the best_ idea because now she’s got a partner in science. She’s got a partner for her terrible fun drunk ideas. She’s got someone who understands how delightful a good explosion is. She’s got someone who understands the importance of accountability and making amends for your sins.

Sure, she’s gained a disapproving mother-in-law in the form of Steve Rogers but she learned a long time ago that life isn’t fair. At least she’s gained three and a half new companions along the way—Hulk, Bruce, Thor make up the three, the half is equal parts Widow and Barton. And as for Rogers… it’s easy enough to avoid someone if you have an AI on watch. 

It’s a struggle not to react at the blatant disapproval Rogers radiates her way but Natasha manages it. Team meals where Rogers nettles her often lead to lots of drinking and angry ranting at DUM-E or JARVIS. It’s _probably_ not the healthiest way to deal with her issues but, meh. At least she’s not making good on her promises to hit his smug face, right? And there are _so_ many times she wants to hit him. He’s got a rare talent to say shit that’ll piss her off in two seconds flat.

“Howard said that wasn’t possible.”

(Science has come a long way since Howard’s time, so he can suck it.)

“Howard did something similar.”

(Whoop-de-fucking-doo. Doesn’t mean she can’t do the same thing and do it _better_.)

“Are you sure you can handle something that heavy?”

(She maintains eye contact with Rogers as she squats down, gets her fingers under the steel beam, and lifts. Her suit hydraulics don’t make a single squeak of protest as she carries it away.)

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for a lady to sit in on this kind of a meeting.”

(She makes one sly comment to the prison director and _Rogers_ is the one not allowed in on the interrogation.)

“Maybe you should talk to someone who knows this topic better. Maybe Reed Richards?”

(To assume that Reed Richards would know more about practical engineering than her is the most laughable thing she’s ever heard. _How_ she doesn’t throw her plate at Rogers’ stupid head is a miracle.)

Perhaps the best instance of Rogers pissing her off was when she’d accidentally gotten caught up in a hostage situation in a bank and he’d told her to hide and not do anything because she didn’t have her suit. She’d spluttered as Rogers had told her to hang tight and wait for them to come.

Twenty minutes, a little bit of rewiring, some feminine charms, and one thigh chokehold later, Natasha was guiding the hostages out of the bank, terrorists incapacitated. She’s sitting in the back of an ambulance when Rogers and Widow arrive. Rogers jogs over, his lecture face out in its full glory. She’s ready to be yelled at and already imagining tomorrow’s headlines (“Avengers Unassembled: Captain America Doesn’t Trust Iron Woman”) when a policeman walks up to her and thanks her. 

Her anger blows away like smoke in the wind, leaving behind pleasant, squirm-worthy surprise. “Just doing my duty,” she tells the guy.

He tips his hat at her and says, “We could use more people like you, Ms. Stark.”

She knows Rogers hears that and smirks in his general direction. Rogers looks a little poleaxed and waits until they’re alone in the quinjet before he’s scolding her for not waiting for them. 

Natasha winds up complaining to Bruce about Rogers’ tendency to underestimate her and generally piss her off. She’s twirling in slow circles on her stool in Bruce’s lab, wondering aloud what Rogers’ damage is and if he really feels that damn threatened by modern women, and whether he’d faint at the sight of a woman CEO wearing a pantsuit when Bruce sighs far too loudly.

She slows to a stop and asks, “You think he would?” 

She’s brought this up with Pepper, hoping that her girlfriend would join in on the fun of scandalizing Captain America but Pepper’d shot her a weary look and told her, “I’m not getting between you, your daddy issues, and Captain America.”

Which, ouch. But also, boo!

“I think you’re thinking too much about him. Which is interesting in its own right.”

“Thought you weren’t that kind of doctor, Brucie.” She snorts, “There’s nothing interesting about it. _Or_ him.”

“You don’t think it’s odd the way you’re fixated on him?” Bruce asks as he turns his back to her, attention focused on the samples he’s been culturing for days now.

The pnuematic doors open with a soft hiss as she grins, “Nope. I know it’s because I hate Rogers for being the gold standard I could never be. I resent the fuck out of his red, white, and blue ass. If he wasn’t the only guy nuts enough to lead the team, I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

Bruce turns at the sound of the doors opening. His expression goes from exasperated amusement to horror. And he’s looking... not at her. Rather, at someone behind her. Natasha rapidly weighs the odds of what Bruce has seen to lead to such a face and wryly asks, “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?”

She turns around even as Bruce nods and catches sight of Steve’s stiff figure walking away from them. Her eyes slide over his form and she can’t stop herself from mumbling, “Love to see you walking away.”

“That’s not nice.”

Natasha turns back to face Bruce, “The world’s not nice.”

“I meant, the way you act towards him. He’s been through a lot. It wouldn’t hurt to be nicer towards him, just a little?”

She can’t help the ugly upturn of her lips at that. “He’s not the only one who’s been through a lot of shit. Your experiment went sideways and now you constantly have to stay in control of your emotions or else people might get hurt. I got blown up by my own weapons and wound up with an electromagnet in my chest and diminished lung capacity. And don’t even get me started on the way people’ve treated me all these years just for being a woman CEO. He doesn’t have a monopoly on misery. What makes him so special that we need to treat him with kiddy gloves?”

“It’s about being kind,” Bruce points out. “We could all use more of that in our lives.”

She’ll be kind to him when he’s the world’s kind to her. “I’ll start being kind when he stops acting like I’m a stubborn piece of chewed-up gum stuck under his boot.” She goes back to swivelling in her chair as she adds on, “Off field.”

Because in the middle of a fight? They get along swell now (ugh, Rogers’ vocabulary is infecting her). Rogers gives out orders, Natasha follows ‘em. Anyone needs aerial back-up? She’s there. Need another heavy hitter? She’s there. Contrary to popular opinion, she knows how to follow orders. Just because she’s got a reputation for being a sneaky little shit who takes advantage of her gender to get what she wants, _doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to be a good follower_.

So, her and Rogers are good on the field. Off field, they act like a couple who had the Worst Divorce Ever and Would Like To Never See Each Other Ever Again. Or something like that. She knows she’s had a big part to play in that dynamic but she’s fine with it. She really is! But also, she’d like him to stop getting on her nerves by saying stupid shit all the fucking time.

For the most part, she’s fine with Rogers being their team leader. He’s good at it and she doesn’t have any complaints. She follows his lead without a lot of questions and a whole lot of input, until what was supposed to be a standard SHIELD mission. It’s nothing special, just a terrorist organization who thought they could break their way into a Stark Industries facility to find some old weapons plans. Unfortunately for them, shes had every single copy in _every_ office destroyed. She’d personally overseen it: the only records that exist are hard copies that she’s got in the tower and their digital counterparts on her private servers.

The problem arises when Natasha realizes that they’ve miscounted how many terrorists they were dealing with. And as soon as the one they missed had realized things were going sideways? He’d made a rush towards the room where the hostages were locked up. She’s the only person who notices, because she’d got JARVIS keeping an eye on the security monitors.

She shoves the guy fighting on her right into Rogers’ boot with a, “Handle this!” and flies off. She knows she’s going to pay for that later. Rogers yells at her to explain what she’s doing. She tells him about the terrorist and he tells her to get back. 

“Widow will manage. She’s closer.”

“She’s fighting off four guys,” Natasha yells back, flying through the door because what’s a little more collateral damage at this point. “She won’t make it in time.”

“Neither will you.”

“Yes, I will!” 

“You don’t know that!”

“ _Yes, I do_!” 

JARVIS interrupts their argument with a smooth, “Sir. If you fly through the wall you will intercept the terrorist right before he can open the door.”

Without any hesitation, Natasha twists and goes shoulder first through the wall and into the terrorist. They wind up crashing through a door, scaring the crap out of the hostages, who scream in terror as she stands on top of the guy and yells, “Got him!” 

Rogers grabs her as soon as she’s landed on Fury’s helicarrier, pulling her into the first room in his path. He grabs her by the arm so tightly the metal squeals in protest. “I don’t care how you handle things when you’re on your own but as long as you’re on this team, you’re not going to go off half-cocked and put innocent lives at risk. Do you hear me?”

Fury grips her so suddenly her vision blurs. She snarls back, “If we’d have done what _you_ wanted, those people would have _died_! I knew I could get to them faster than Widow!”

“You didn’t!” Surety and anger burn in Rogers’ baby blues. 

She wants to cry, she wants to scream, she wants to shake Rogers and ask him _why_ he thinks so poorly of her. What did she do to make him think that she’d ever risk innocent civilian lives? But she’d never give Rogers the pleasure of knowing he’s that far under her skin.

“I did!” She yanks her arm back, flipping a plate open on her gauntlet to display JARVIS’ calculations for Rogers’ astonished gaze. “Widow was closer but even she couldn’t take out four people _and_ stop that guy _before_ he reached the hostages. But _I_ could because I’ve got JARVIS and I can fucking fly, jackass. I know what the hell I’m doing out there.”

She doesn’t remember the last time she lost her cool this spectacularly. She gets up in Rogers’ face, pokes him in the chest, yells at him to trust her, trust his team, tells him to get over himself. She takes all the frustration she’s been hoarding since she was five and unleashes it on Rogers, no filters, no control. It’s like a dam bursting and Rogers just lets it all wash over him. Rogers stares at her with stricken eyes as he’s backed into a wall. He even stays there when she’s done, watching her stomp out of the room. 

She fumes on her way to the War Room, throwing herself into the closest chair and crossing her arms as she scowls at the entrance, waiting for Rogers to show up and get this debrief over with. Rogers walks in a couple of minutes later, face composed. Ugh. You wouldn’t think they’d had an argument just now. Natasha’s thinking highly uncharitable thoughts during the meeting and wondering how she can get JARVIS to make Rogers’ life miserable in the coming days. Maybe mess up his laundry pick-up? She’s in the middle of finalizing a plan to dust itching powder in his shorts, an oldie but a goodie, when she hears Rogers call her name.

“Natasha,” she looks up with the blandest smile possible. “Good work taking down that last terrorist. Those hostages owe you their lives.”

That’s... not what she expected to hear. Natasha blinks in surprise, “Uhh... Thanks?”

“Next time, can you share those probability numbers with us? Or get JARVIS to do that?”

She raises an eyebrow at the request. It sounds a little suspicious to her. “Why? You don’t trust me or something?”

“I trust you to lie to me about the odds of you getting hurt by doing something dangerous, yes.” Rogers retorts immediately.

Barton chokes on a laugh. Thor sniggers. Bruce presses his lips together to hide his own smile. Widow smirks openly. Natasha gapes at Rogers before spluttering, “I do what needs to be done to get the job done!”

“But not at the cost of your own life or well being,” Rogers corrects her, firmly but gently. His eyes bore into hers with such intensity she’s left genuinely speechless. “We need you, Natasha.”

That’s... She’s...

“I never would have guessed that was what it took to make Natasha Stark shut up.”

That snaps her out of it. 

Natasha glares at Barton, who is grinning cheekily at her. “Shut up Barton. Or I’ll replace your arrows with rubber chickens.”

She doesn’t know how it happened but looking deep into Rogers’ earnest blue eyes as he tells her that they needed her on the team... it kind of freaks her out. She didn’t think he was capable of giving her an earnest compliment, much less one like _that._ She can’t stop thinking about _why_ Rogers would do that. After being such a thorn in her side, where’d that compliment come from? Why hadn’t he fought her more?

That answer arrives later, when she’s walking past the kitchen and hears someone call her name. Pulled out of her mental calculations, she turns on her heel and sticks her head into the kitchen. She stares at Rogers’ and Rhodey’s backs, grinning as soon as she recognizes her best friend. She’s about to announce her presence when Rhodey sighs, “I’d say it’s not you but it’s you. Howard did a real fucking number on her growing up. He’d tell her all kinds of stories about you, what kind of guy you were, and how she didn’t measure up. It really made her feel inadequate.”

Natasha presses her back against the wall, glad it’s an open doorway connecting the living room and the kitchen because it makes eavesdropping a heck of a lot easier. She runs her tongue across the back of her teeth and tastes nothing but bitterness.

“And she wound up hating me as a result.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey sighs next. “Howard was pretty clear on how pissed he was that he had a daughter instead of a son. And then he kept comparing her to you, telling her shit like Captain America was such a good man and would never lie or would never do this, never do that. It’s understandable why she’d resent the fuck out you. You were everything she couldn’t be in Howard’s eyes.”

“He put me on a pedestal and then penalized her for it.”

Rhodey nods, “Pretty much.”

“That’s some fucking bullshit.”

Natasha smirks, remembering a time where Howard had shaken her for saying “Damn” and told her that Cap never swore. Fucking asshole.

Rogers is quiet for a moment. “Why the fuck would he do that? To his own kid?”

“Who the fuck knows.”

Natasha scrubs a hand over her face as weariness settles over her shoulders. Inside, glass clinks against marble.

“What can I do, Rhodes? To get her to stop hating me.”

“I don’t know. Show her that you’re not Howard’s Captain America. That you’re not a yardstick she’s got to measure up to. Show her who Steve Rogers is. But there’s another problem you’ve got to deal with. A bigger one.”

“What?”

“Men have done nothing but look down their noses at her. They’ve always underestimated her. There’ve been some assholes who betrayed her trust. _Badly_. There was a point where every tabloid was calling her a “man-hating lesbian” and they weren’t wrong. She has good reason not to trust the guys around her.”

There’s another pause from Rogers’ side before he asks, voice low. “Did anyone… Did… Was she… ”

“That’s a conversation you need to have with her,” Rhodey says. “But don’t assume that you know the reason why she’s got trust issues with guys. There’s plenty of damn good reasons why you can lose your trust in a group of people.”

Rogers’ chuckles are weak and breathy, filled with wry amusement. “I think she’d use her repulsors to blast me out of the room if I ever tried to talk to her about anything so sensitive.”

True that.

“Just… trust her. Believe in her. No matter how she acts, she’s got a heart of gold underneath it all. And uh... remember that she’ll try to pick a fight to change the subject. Especially if you’re talking about feelings. I love her but she’s got issues when it comes to her emotions.”

Rhodey knows her too well (she loves him so much it hurts sometimes). And this whole conversation is getting too personal for her taste so she’s going to go do... something. Something physical that doesn’t involve any feelings what-so-ever. Like hammer some dents out of her armor.

Unfortunately, her brain keeps circling back to Rogers’ and Rhodey’s conversation. What’s Rogers trying to do? Why’d he talk to Rhodey about her? What’s his _game_? She tells JARVIS to analyze Rogers’ behavioral patterns and see if there’s any correlation present between them and his interactions with the others. Maybe it’s some team building shtick. Or maybe it’s some more nefarious.

JARVIS spits out an interesting report after three months of observation. There’ve been clear changes in the way Rogers has been treating her. He stopped calling her “Stark” after moving into the Tower. The number of times he’s brought up Howard around her has gone from every conversation to never. He’s even taken parts of her angry rant to heart. There’ve been increasing instances of him asking the team for their input when taking down the villain of the week.

He also stares at her. Like, _a lot_ . When she sees _that_ as part of JARVIS’ analysis, she tells him to throw up the video footage. She tilts her head in confusion because the way Rogers’ looking at her… it’s like he’s trying to understand her. There’s frustration and confusion and... she doesn’t know how to describe it. Like she’s a mystery he wants to understand. JARVIS loads up a conversation between Rogers and Widow where Rogers is nursing a Coke can and asking Widow to help him understand Natasha. What should he do to gain her trust? (Which, what the hell? Was he going around asking _everyone_ about how to talk to her?)

“Maybe stop assuming the worst of her?” Widow offers dryly. Rogers starts, shooting her a confused look that has Widow sighing. “When she talked about that arms deal happening in Madripoor? You gave her this look like she was still in the business. She’s left that life behind and you still act like she—"

She tells JARVIS to cut the feed. She pretends her hands aren’t shaking and she just. Needs a breather before she can get up and get to work.

This isn’t the Steve Rogers who picked a fight with her in the helicarrier hours after their first meeting. This version is trying to be nice. And when someone’s trying to be nice to her? There’s always strings attached with them. When she wonders aloud what kind of favor Rogers is aiming to ask her for, JARVIS dryly answers, “Perhaps he is trying to be your friend.”

She still remembers the lecture Rogers had given some journalist shortly after he’d moved in about how the modern era was rife with rampant overspending, greed, commercialism, and consumption and how he didn’t understand when American values had shifted. She remembers how the journalist had coyly inquired why, if Steve didn’t like those qualities, did he keep Natasha Stark on his team?

“That wasn’t my call to make.”

To read between the lines: Give me a choice and I wouldn’t have picked her to be part of the team. So, yeah. She doesn’t think Steve wants to be friends when she stands for everything he hates. (Also, that was the point she programmed JARVIS to stop her from googling herself and the Avengers).

“Unlikely. He hates my guts and everything I stand for.” She shakes her head and scrolls through the analytics JARVIS is showing. “He must want _something_.”

“ _Friendship_ , Sir.”

She rolls her eyes at the ceiling. “I’ve never met a man who _only_ wanted friendship, JARVIS. We’ve run the numbers on _that_ quite a few times.”

He doesn’t quip anything back so she chalks that up as a win.

She forgets about Rogers for a while after that because she and Pepper are kind of on the rocks. They have been since Natasha decided to fly that nuke up into the alien portal without so much as a by-your-leave. Pepper’s never been that happy about Natasha’s decision to be a superhero but she’d understood why Natasha needed to do it. Natasha had, foolishly, assumed that that understanding would hold in the face of… well. Everything. 

That isn’t the case. 

She tries. _They_ try. But it’s too little too late. Occasional weekends in Malibu can’t make up for all the missed commitments and broken promises. Natasha, who usually returns to the Tower Monday evening, returns Sunday morning and finds Barton sitting on the couch watching cartoons as he eats cereal. He watches her walk in, asking through a mouthful of milk and Fruity Pebbles, “Y’r b’k e’r’y?”

She ignores him, walking down the hall to the other “Avengers-only” elevator, determined to talk with Bruce because she _needs_ to vent. But Bruce isn’t in his room. JARVIS tells her that he isn’t in his lab either. 

“He went on a morning jog with Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Rogers.”

Natasha takes a beat to picture that merry crew before asking “Thor?”

“He shall return from Asgard on the 15th.”

The hurt she feels is so irrational but it’s there. If there’s no one to complain to, she’ll just go and whack her emotions out on the latest iteration of her armor. Eventually, there’s nothing left but anger. She lets it soak into her bones until it wafts around her like a miasma. She forgoes team meals in favor of getting take out and eating it in her lab. The crease between her forehead rarely softens. She tries not to sink to the bottom of the bottle if only because she’s not as young as she used to be and hangovers are a bitch. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have crying jags every night for a week after the break-up.

She flies around New York taking out criminals with perhaps more violence and self-injury than strictly necessary, but whatever. Nothing some painkillers and bandages won’t fix. She gets to beat up bad guys _and_ do some good in the process. Win-win.

But apparently, she’s even doing superhero-ing wrong because Rogers sits her down to talk about her “recent behavior.” By which she means he blindsides her right as she comes out of the lab in search of a fresh pot of coffee. Here she thought they’d progressed after he’d acknowledged that some of her plays were the wiser call in the field a few times. But it seems like he still thinks she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“What about my behavior?” she asks waspishly. 

“It’s been reckless, for starters.” Rogers pulls up a couple of videos on his tablet. She stares impassively as he points at them one at a time. “You let yourself get shot here, here, and here. You could have taken that guy out at least a couple of seconds faster. I’m pretty sure _that_ gave you bruised ribs. You got dragged by that dragon instead of using your repulsors to free yourself. You—"

“I _get it_ . I fucked up. Do you do this with the others too? Bust out a list of things they could have done better in the heat of battle?” When you’re flying by the seat of your pants and don’t have _time_ to think, goes without saying. 

She expects to see an angry flush on his cheeks. But instead, there’s just quiet concern. He shakes his head, “It’s not about fucking up. Like I said, you’ve been reckless.”

She bristles, because haven’t they done this song and dance already? What the fuck does she have to do to earn Rogers’ respect? If not that, his _trust_ that she can do what needs to be done? Unaware of her rising anger, Rogers pushes on. 

“You’ve been putting yourself in needless danger for a few weeks. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were doing it on purpose as some kind of guilt thing because you and Pepper bro—"

“ _Don’t_ ,” she snaps. The ache in her bruised ribs grows more pronounced. There’s so much sympathy in his eyes. She can’t take it. She doesn’t _want_ Rogers’ pity. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you acting like my dad.”

There’s a flash of something in Rogers’ eyes that she can’t catch before he mutes it. His chair creaks as he leans forward. “You need _someone_ to watch your back!”

She scoffs. “Rhodey’s on some mission, Thor’s off-world, and Bruce’s in India trying to help orphans.”

Rogers makes a complicated expression before exasperation bleeds through. “What about Widow? Or Hawkeye?”

Natasha shoots him a look. “I’m not going to trust two SHIELD agents to have my best interests at heart.”

“What about me?”

Natasha blinks at that, genuinely taken aback. “What about you?”

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

There’s a plaintive tone to the question that gives her pause. Unfortunately, however, her mouth runs away from her. “Why would I do that?”

Rogers blinks. Dare she say he looks hurt by her question. “Because I’m your teammate?”

A bray of laughter tumbles out of her. Rogers starts, the hurt in his eyes deepening when she says, “Listen. When push comes to shove? I know you’ve got my back. But give me a choice? I’d rather have Thor or Bruce watching out for me. I can’t trust someone who thinks I’m an immature arrogant asshole incapable of taking care of herself.”

Rogers stares at her like she’s grown a second head. Suddenly drained of energy, Natasha shakes her head and rises to her feet. She can’t sit here and try to make sense of Rogers’ expression. “You want me to be more careful? Fine. I’ll do that. Just leave me alone.”

She has to walk past Rogers to get to the doors. She’s surprised when he grabs hold of her wrist and makes her stop. She looks down at his hand in surprise, wanting to tug her hand back. But then Steve asks, “Do you _promise_ to be more careful?”

The question, the request, is too genuine, too earnest. She doesn’t have the strength to deal with him.

“Why do you even care?” she exhales wearily.

“I can’t care about you?” Rogers asks in return. His hand is dry and warm around her wrist. He stands slowly, like she's a skittish animal he doesn't want to spook. She stares up at him, heart thudding painfully inside her chest when his voice softens. There’s so much… _emotion_ in his eyes. There’s worry, hurt, and something deeper, something she’s too scared to name. “I can’t worry about you?”

[ ](https://ironswordandstarshield.tumblr.com/post/190055441145/she-has-to-walk-past-rogers-to-get-to-the-doors)

Her mouth goes dry under Rogers’ gaze. It’s pained and worried, and it’s making the lump in her throat swell until she can’t breathe. And he’s _still_ holding her hand. God, his hand is so warm...

“Do you worry about the others too, mother hen?” she asks, voice low and rough.

She’s always thought his eyes are so blue, but today she learns there’s a touch of green in them. It’s arresting. She swallows roughly when Rogers murmurs, “I worry about them in a different way than I worry about you.” 

Somewhere through the fog that’s taken over her brain, a voice recommends asking Rogers if that means he doesn’t trust her to do her job. But it’s coming from so far away. And she’s more interested in knowing, “That almost sounds like you mean it.”

“I do mean it. I care a lot about you, Natasha.” 

Rogers means it. Son of a bitch, he genuinely means it. Natasha wants to sit down, because that’s a lot to take in. Also, when’s the last time someone said that to her and meant it without any caveats? Has anyone ever looked at her with this much earnestness when telling her that she was cared for? She doesn’t have an answer to those questions. And shockingly, the thought brings tears to her eyes. She ducks her head, hoping Rogers won’t catch her moment of weakness. 

Unfortunately, he does. He takes a step forward, fingers tightening around her wrist. “Natasha, I...”

Alarms blare out of the embedded speakers, sending a jolt through her. Similarly, Rogers jumps back as JARVIS informs them of an attack taking place near Coney Island. Grateful for the distraction, Natasha rushes out of the room, telling JARVIS to get her armor ready. She doesn’t think about how cold her hand feels, bereft of Steve’s grip. 

After the battle, she’s sitting next to Thor, who is watching The Bachelor, staring at her wrist and wondering about Rogers’ words. She ponders the look in his eyes as he’d told her he’d cared, wondering why, why, why, until finally, she gets an answer: he _wants_ her. The man is attracted to her and wants to sleep with her. It’s the most obvious of answers and has her exclaiming, “Of course!”

Thor starts and asks, “Pardon?”

She apologizes for the interruption but all she can think is, _of course_! That would explain everything, wouldn’t it? Somewhere down the line Rogers developed a crush on her and he’s just trying to get into her pants. Plenty of people have a competency kink, maybe Rogers is just one of those guys. Or maybe he’s just really into brunettes. Natasha stares at her reflection and wonders how much of Aunt Peggy he sees in her.

She decides to test her hypothesis by getting her flirt on around Rogers. Her T-shirts and jeans get tighter, she makes sure her hair doesn’t look like a rat’s nest when she comes out of the lab. She keeps a tube of mascara and gloss in her work desk, applying both before she heads out. She wears suits of the most flattering cut, the ones that show off her long legs and shoulders best. 

When she’s asked to attend a charity ball, she wears this gorgeous black dress with slim triangles of nude mesh around the chest that show teasing glimpses of her cleavage and the blue tint of her arc reactor. It’s hardly the most daring dress she’s got in her arsenal, but Rogers turns red after staring at her legs and her chest for two seconds too long.

She exaggerates small movements like reaching for her coffee mug or stretching in front of Rogers. She twirls a few strands of hair around her finger “thoughtlessly” while talking. She pouts when Rogers says he’s used the last of the cream cheese (and struggles not to laugh when that coupled with a sad expression has the man running out the door with hurried reassurances that he’ll get her a fresh pot right away).

Widow corners her after a mission one day and asks, “Are you trying to drive Steve mad? Because if that’s your game plan, I’m going to have to report you to Fury. Who knows what he’ll do if UST winds up being the reason he loses Captain America.”

Privately, she admits that’d be a sweet by-product of her experiment but she keeps it to herself. “I’m just testing something.”

“If you can drive a guy ‘round the bend by flirting too much? I’ll spare you the trouble and tell you, yes. Yes, you can.” Widow leans into her personal bubble and crosses her arms. “Spill, Tasha.”

Natasha weighs the cost of telling Widow the truth or lying and decides. Well. She could use another woman’s opinion on the matter even if it is Black Widow, spy extraordinaire. Her own opinion, when it comes to Rogers especially, is incredibly biased. It’d be pretty embarrassing if her whole experiment winds up being founded on an incorrect assumption.

“Like I said. I’m testing a theory. I uhh.” she glances around the living room to make sure they’re alone before she asks JARVIS, “Are we alone here JARVIS? No eavesdroppers around?”

“You are quite alone, Sir.”

Natasha pitches her voice low and says, “Do you think Rogers likes me?”

Widow’s curious gaze goes flat. “Seriously?”

“I mean, _like-_ likes me!” Natasha clarifies. 

It’s a little insulting the way Widow asks, “How is this news to you?” 

“I… Well. I thought he thought I was annoying as hell. He used to make this face like I was getting on his last nerve. I never thought he’d have a _thing_ for me. I’m just testing to see if he really likes me or if it’s… something else.”

“What else can it be?” Widow asks, straddling the line between exasperated and curious.

“Espionage. Maybe Fury told him to get on my good side so that I can make more things for SHIELD. Maybe he just wants something from me. Technology related or otherwise.” 

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“What makes you so sure?” Natasha asks defensively. Not to pull out a sob story but there have been more men who’ve come into her life interested in either stealing her ideas or sleeping with her than there have been men who actually care about her. How can Widow say with certainty that Rogers’ incentives are pure? He’s working with SHIELD and Fury is made of ulterior motives and secrets. It’s not that hard of a stretch to imagine Rogers being talked into manipulating her for whatever reason Fury spoon-fed him! Also, he’s a _guy._

“I don’t think you’ve paid enough attention to _when_ he’s sighing over you.” What’s that supposed to mean? Noticing Natasha’s confusion, Widow explains. “I know you’ve been trying to look pretty around him and he’s noticed that. But he was gone on you before that. Ask JARVIS to show you how he looks at you when you come to breakfast after working through the night in your lab.”

That… that doesn’t make any sense. She doesn’t look pretty after she’s working. She looks like a mess. There’s no way _anyone_ would look at her then and consider her attractive. And yet when she sees the video feeds, it looks like Widow was right. Natasha learns what yearning looks like on Rogers’ face and she kind of wishes she hadn’t.

She stares at her knees, fingertips massaging her temples.Her misconceptions about Rogers have been challenged and tossed into the garbage. Rogers is clearly infatuated with her and he doesn’t seem to be interested in wanting _anything_ from her. He’s been nothing but painfully considerate, awkwardly earnest, and sincere.

“JARVIS,” she asks quietly. “When’s the last time me and Cap argued about something?”

There’s a beat before the AI answers. “It has been over a week since you two have argued, not including the time where you both got caught up in discussing if the Star Wars prequels should be considered part of the overall—"

“I get it,” Natasha cuts JARVIS off with a small smile. That had been a fun discussion. But... over a week. “Feels like we used to argue every day before.”

“The initial average of times you two would argue was 2.6 times per day. However, this has steadily declined over time.”

“To?”

“A frequency of once every 16 days, rounded up.”

She falls back on the workshop cot. A revaluation is in order because it seems that her answer to “Who is Captain America” was incorrect on several levels. Or maybe it’s more correct to say that she thought the worst of him and assumed that was all there was to him. Steve Rogers is more than the stories Howard held over her head and more than his title. 

It’s a peculiar epiphany for Natasha to realize there’s a man underneath the hero’s cowl—a flawed, awkward, but ultimately well-meaning man. Someone who doesn’t have any romantic experience, is doing pretty well for himself 70 years out of his time, and is just bad at communicating. Yes, he acted like a jerk when they met but she had too. And! Steve hasn’t treated her the same way since then. The numbers don’t lie. Steve Rogers has been changing the way he acts around her, the way he treats her. He’s been… _decent_. 

He’s made the effort to do what she’s asked of him: no one’s allowed in my lab, don’t take it personally. If you need me, just tell JARVIS. I’ll come up. I don’t like being handed things. Ask the rest of us for our input into the plan too. I didn’t know the Howard you knew and I don’t appreciate the effort to soften his image up.

With a scowl at the ceiling, Natasha realizes that, objectively speaking, she’s been a brat towards Rogers. _Maybe_ some of it was deserved but she’s been pretty selfish. The guy’s made more than a few overtures towards friendship and she’s done nothing but make more demands. She’s not the best person in the world but she prides herself on being a decent friend at least (in her own way). 

Groaning, she curls up on her side and faces the wall. Does she want things to change though? What if she makes one nice gesture towards the guy and he assumes he’s got a chance? She’s not interested in Rogers like that. And most men misread those situations and think they’ve got a chance at being with the girl they like. She doesn’t think Rogers would do that but he’s got about as much experience as a thirteen-year old Amish girl. Probably less.

God, she wishes Pepper wasn’t on the other side of the world. She could use some girl talk to figure this shit out. There’s always Widow… but Widow is sure to psychoanalyze her along the way and use that information later. 

She calls Barton and asks, “Do you do girl talk?”

“If you give me enough alcohol I can do whatever kind of talk you want. I don’t paint nails though.”

Natasha hangs up on him. She calls Rhodey instead. Rhodey listens to her rant and asks, “Why are you being such an idiot about this?”

“Excuse me?” she asks.

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.” She’s about to point out that no, no they haven’t, but Rhodey’s forging forward. “Natasha, you’ve got a bad tendency to get caught up in your head about stuff like this. You hypothesize and guess what people want instead of asking them.”

“I’ve got enough experience under my belt to make reasonable assumptions,” she points out, not hiding her hurt.

Rhodey makes an odd sound, like he’s hurt on her behalf but also a little exasperated. “I’m not saying don’t do that. You should. But you also can’t just assume _everything_ about someone without talking to them and understanding what they’re about. Isn’t that just bad data collection?”

She hates it when he calls her bias out like that. Rhodey’s voice gentles as he continues. “I get that dudes have treated you like crap. You’ve got every right to be cautious. I’m just saying maybe he’s not like the others. If he’s gone on you even when you look like a hot mess? Maybe he’s just into you the way you are and that’s all there is to it.”

And it feels like the universe agrees with him because days later, right when she’s in the middle of scarfing down a bowl of Clint’s five-cheese mac and cheese, Rhodey sends her a clip of Rogers. Like she’d said before, she’d stopped googling herself and the Avengers ages ago. The team’s got their own PR person and she’s got her own (and the two rarely meet). So she doesn’t know any specifics of what’s being said about her or the team. No news is good news, as the saying goes.

The clip that Rhodey has sent her is titled “Captain America defends Iron Woman—03042013—Fox News” and is 6 minutes long. Curious, Natasha hits play on her phone. Rogers, in full uniform, is sitting on some kind of panel with a couple of other men, one of them being an ex-board member, Ron. Ron, in his reedy voice, is talking about the challenges he has faced during his career. It’s a dull tale that threatens to put Natasha to sleep. And then he mentions Stark Industries and Howard. Specifically he talks about the great pains Howard went to try and find Captain America during his annual expeditions and how “raising a rambunctious child like Natasha Stark really tested Howard’s patience and genius.” 

Natasha’s two seconds away from closing the video when Rogers interrupts, “It was Howard’s choice to have a child. If he was incapable of giving his own daughter the love and care she deserved then that’s on him. Kids are always going to be disruptive. When you become a parent, you have to understand your time isn’t your own anymore. Your children come first. If you can’t do that, you shouldn’t be having kids. No child deserves to have parents who see them as a hindrance.”

On screen, Rogers is giving Ron the dirtiest look she’s ever seen from him and that includes the looks he’d sent her way at the start of their acquaintance. Ron meanwhile, looks like he just got slapped. Red creeps up his neck and pools in his cheeks as he argues, “You weren’t there. You don’t know what Howard had to deal with. The Natasha Stark you know is different from the one Howard had to deal with.”

“I’ve seen enough home videos and talked with enough people to get a decent idea of what kind of father Howard was.” Rogers stares Ron down, who has a faint sheen of sweat gleaming across his brow by this point. “Not a good one, apparently.” 

A spark of cold anger splutters in the back of her mind because _when_ had he... _why_ had JARVIS let him watch... 

“You think a couple of home videos is enough to pass judgement on someone?” Ron barks out an incredulous laugh. 

“No. But seeing the scars he’s left on his own daughter’s psyche speak volumes. She deserved a father who didn’t see her as a problem that needed to be shipped away to a boarding school for most of the year.” 

Her ears go numb, turning the rest of Ron’s splutterings into mumbles. The clip stops soon afterwards, screen fading to black, leaving Natasha to stare at her own pale expression. Her stomach is twisting itself knots, anger and shame entwining into a gorgon’s knot because how _dare_ Rogers say that. Who does he think he is? Where does he get off saying that? On TV on top of it all. 

But at the same time... when’s the last time someone defended like publicly like this? And this is _Captain America_ taking her side. Howard must be spinning in his grave right about now. _Captain America_ went on public TV and called Howard out for being a shitty father.

With a weak laugh, Natasha says, “Jay? Keep a copy of that clip in my private server.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

The urge to thank Rogers pops up the next morning when she sees him drop two Eggos into the toaster, frowning a little when the lever gets stuck. But that would mean admitting she’s seen that particular clip. Not to mention the added mutual embarrassment that’s gonna crop up. So no... she’s not going to thank him directly. Indirectly is another story.

She leans on the counter next to the coffee machine, staring at Rogers, who is putting together a sandwich, as she wonders what’s a good way to show her appreciation in a subtle way. Imply gratitude without saying thanks or relying on money or sex. She must stare at him too long because he turns to give her a pointed look, like he’s asking, “Do you mind not staring at me? I’m trying to have breakfast here.” 

Lesser men, and villians, would quake in their boots at being shot that look. _Oh_. That gives her an idea. She stares back at him and takes a sip of her coffee. “Do you have anything lined up for today?”

Surprised at being addressed, Rogers hesitates a beat before answering, “I need to answer some emails. Write a report. Nothing that important.”

“Good,” Natasha nods. “It’s high time I made you a better suit.”

The toaster dings and pushes the warmed Eggos out. Rogers transfers them onto a plate. “Suit?” he asks as he takes a seat at the island counter, “You mean my uniform?”

“Yeah. Full offense to SHIELD but I can do better in my sleep. And I’m not just talking about the design.”

Pouting, Rogers stops cutting his food in half to look at her properly and asks, “What’s wrong with my uniform?”

“I can give you an itemized list if it’ll help.”

“You don’t have a list.”

Natasha smirks. Rogers’ surprised and appalled expression when she asks JARVIS to pull up the list is worth its weight in gold. He scrolls through it muttering, “When did you find the time to put all of this together?”

She doesn’t tell him she’s been collecting data on everyone since before they started living in the Tower. Instead, Natasha finishes her coffee, grabs a slice of toast and a banana, and tells him, “I’ll be downstairs all day. Tell JARVIS when you’re coming, okay?”

Rogers starts at that. Hope, if she’s reading the expression correctly, flits through Rogers’ eyes before he asks, “Down where?”

“My lab.”

Rogers’ eyes widen. She ignores his surprise and waves at Rogers, “Just give me a five minute warning.”

“Okay.”

Rogers shows up at her doorstep half an hour later with a sheepish curve to his shoulders, waving up at the camera outside her blacked-out lab doors. She raises an amused eyebrow at him and asks, “What happened to the emails and report?”

“A new uniform made by Natasha Stark is more exciting than anything in my inbox.”

“Right answer. JARVIS, let him in.”

On cue, the dark glass doors slide open and allow Rogers his first glimpse into her workspace. She keeps her eyes on Rogers, amusement rising steadily at the wonder and delight that light up the man’s handsome face. He takes one step into the lab before immediately turning around to stare at the dark glass. 

“How did you... This is glass isn’t it? How do you get it to turn black?” Not that she plans to answer that but Rogers just barrels on. “Are these holograms? Is that a holographic basketball hoop? Are these schematics? What for? Is this for my armor?”

He’s like a kid in a candy shop. She laughs, snaps her fingers to signal JARVIS to create a holo-basketball for her and says, “Think fast, Cap.” before tossing it at Rogers’ face.

Rogers grabs the ball and rolls it around in his hands with glee, tossing it in the air a few times before he chucks it towards the hoop, which has several helpful blinking neon arrows around it. He laughs as the orange ball sinks smoothly through the yellow net. 

He lets her drag him into a corner, attention everywhere but on what she’s doing. She refuses to categorize it as adorable. She firmly tells herself she’s annoyed because Rogers isn’t paying attention to what she’s saying. That goes out the window when she tells Rogers to strip and he starts doing it without thinking. 

He only stops when he’s got his fingers on his pants zipper and asks, “Wait. Why am I doing this?”

“I need your measurements. Unless you plan on wearing your uniform on top of your clothes.”

Pink-eared and bashful, Rogers strips down to his shorts and lets her (re: JARVIS) take all the measurements she needs, then quickly slips his clothes back on. She sneaks a few peeks at him as he’s dressing, smiling a little when he bounces on his toes while yanking his pants up. It’s kind of cute. The whole process takes no more than 5 minutes. 

The plan is to show Rogers out but he’s still poking around at the holographics with unadulterated delight and curiosity. So instead of telling him he should leave now, she asks him, “You want to stay and play around? There’s a lot more stuff programmed into the system if you want to explore.” 

There’s so much hunger in Rogers’ eyes, a clear burning desire to learn. Her heart skips a beat if she’s honest. But then Rogers shakes his head with regret. She tries not to let her heart sink with disappointment when he says “I can’t right now. But uhh...” Rogers pauses indecisively before asking in a rush, “Was I the only one who you took notes on? About my suit and everything else?”

Surprise and delight blooms in her at the shy questions.

“No I... I’ve got that for everyone.” 

“Would it be okay if I could see those?”

“Of cou- Yeah sure. I uh...” She shoves some stuff off the nearest table and gestures for Rogers to come closer. “Sit down here. How many screens do you need? Let’s go with two—one to read on and one to take notes on. Where’d I put the spare stylus...”

“Actually I’d... stylus?” Rogers asks, clearly intrigued as Natasha turns to root through her filing cabinet of miscellaneous junk and parts. “What’s that?”

“It’s a digital pen basically.” She pulls a drawer open and blinks at the turquoise tie sitting there. Huh. She thought she’d lost that.

“That sounds amazing,” Rogers sounds almost wistful. “I bet that makes art so much easier.” 

“That and a tablet.” She admits, pulling another drawer open. This one is filled with screws and scattered tools. No stylus in sight. “God dammit, where the fuck is that piece of shit.” 

It takes her another ten minutes but she finally finds the stylus buried underneath a sheath of papers. She sets Rogers up with his screens, notes, and stylus and gets cracking on her end with his new suit. It doesn’t take long for her to forget he’s there. He’s a good guest. He sticks to his seat and works quietly. 

When Bruce calls, asking if she’s seen Steve, they exchange a surprised look. She doesn’t know who is more surprised that they managed to spend hours together without arguing.

“He said he was going to help make dinner,” Bruce finishes saying.

Rogers curses as he scrambles to his feet. “Sorry Bruce! I’ll be right up.”

“You’ve been down there the whole time?” he asks, clearly shocked.

Natasha snorts, “Don’t sound _that_ surprised by it. We both got caught up working.”

“Thanks for the notes, Natasha,” Steve thanks her as he gets to his feet, “They were a big help. JARVIS, can you please save everything and send it to my email?”

“I shall transfer it all to your Starkpad, sir.”

“Thank you. Oh, Natasha?”

She wiggles her fingers at Bruce before disconnecting from the call. “Yeah?”

“Do you take those notes after every battle?”

“More or less,” she shrugs. It’s not that hard. JARVIS does most of the work collecting and compiling millions of data points into analytics, which she then studies to separate the junk from the useful data.

“Could you... I’d appreciate it if you’d share those notes with me too? It’d help with mission planning.”

Surprise fills her, along with the sweet blush of pride. She finds herself sitting up straighter as she agrees, “Sure. Not a problem.”

Captain America bleeds away to leave Steve Rogers behind when he shuffles from foot to foot for a moment before hesitantly asking, “I, uhh, left some notes about my new uniform. What I’d like from the design. If that’s okay?”

“Of course!” She may say that too fast and too loud but there’s just no controlling the urge to reassure Rogers in the moment. “I’ll check them out. Thanks.”

With a tiny but warm smile, and a reminder that dinner’d be ready in half an hour, Rogers leaves her lab.

Natasha throws herself into her work after that. There’s team gear upgrades to see through, the new Stark tablet to complete before the Q4 launch, and her armor upgrades. All of it is delightful and challenging. But collaborating with Rogers on his new uniform? That might be the _most_ fun of them all. And she’s not just saying that because she gets to test the armor’s durability against bullets. 

When Rogers shoots worried looks at her and her gun, she rolls her eyes and says, “They’re rubber bullets! They’re not gonna hurt.”

“What _is it_ about me that makes pretty girls want to shoot me?” Rogers laments to no one in particular. She pretends he didn’t just call her pretty and that she isn’t preening on the inside. Or smiling at her console. “I don’t have to wear the suit, right?”

“Might be your smart mouth,” Natasha quips back, firmly ignoring the part where he’s called her pretty. “And no. Just get it on that dummy.”

The grin he shoots her way does bad things to her already bad heart. It’s filled with so much fondness it makes the shrapnel in her chest ache. It fills her with anxiety as well, but why she’s nervous? Who knows. She sure as hell doesn’t. She just has moments where her anxiety spikes and she has to do those breathing exercises her therapist taught her to calm herself down. But she’s got it under control. Everything’s fine.

Until it’s not.

They’re called in to deal with a bank robbery that’s turned into a hostage situation. SHIELD finds out at the 11th hour that the people inside are using modified Chitauri weapons. Things go pear shaped while the team is five minutes away. Natasha sees Bruce’s knuckles turning white against his knees as Coulson tells them that shots have been fired inside the building. By the time they’re on the ground? Seven civilians have died.

Natasha holds it together until she sees one of the dead civilians is a kid, no older than 14. The world tilts sideways at the sight of that pale hand dangling off the side of the covered stretcher. Time dilates, stretching like it’s made of taffy. It’s like she’s underwater; her vision swims and every noise becomes deep and muted. Someone’s talking to her but the words don’t penetrate. And she knows she’s saying something back as well but that isn’t getting through either.

A sharp pungent smell snaps her out of it, the darkness receding. She stares into Rogers’ worried baby blues, wondering when’d they wind up in this alley? Wasn’t she standing next to the bank’s front door watching the EMT’s carry the kid’s body to the... watching the kid’s mom...

There’s pressure building in her chest, cutting into her ribs and flesh. It’s agony and she can’t let it out. It’s caught in her throat like a shard of glass, cutting into flesh and filling her lungs with blood. She presses her hand to her mouth but the sob slips through her fingers anyways. The pain changes shape, from pressure trying to come out to a hand choking her. 

Gentle fingers pull her in, tucking her face against warm kevlar before they stroke her head. Rogers is whispering, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. It’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”

No. It’s _not_ , it _won’t ever_ be okay! She wails into Rogers’ silver star because nothing about this okay. That was just a _kid_! He had his whole life ahead of him! They should have been told about the situation faster. Maybe if they had then... then...

She cries, and cries, and cries. She didn’t think she had that many tears in her. She’s hiccuping as she tries to get her breathing back in control when Rogers suddenly shifts. It’s a quick half turn that turns her back towards the alley’s dead end.

“Sorry Cap!” An unfamiliar voice calls out from the alley mouth. “We’re looking for Iron Woman. Have you seen her?”

He’s shielding her from whoever’s come asking, she realizes. Without her armor on, she’s practically invisible hiding behind his bulk. That lump in her throat? The one that’d gone down a few minutes ago? It’s making a comeback, especially when Rogers smoothly says, “Sorry, haven’t. I’ll tell her you’re looking for her though.”

She doesn’t realize how much tension has built in Rogers’ body until he lets go of it. She feels him relaxing, his hands sliding to the center of her back as he peers down at her. Natasha expects him to ask if she’s doing okay and she’s not sure if she can lie. 

But Rogers surprises her by asking, “Do you need some more time before going back out there? I can cook up some lie to give you more time.”

Gratitude floods her. She smiles at him, rubbing her fingers against his star. “I need to clean my face before I go back.”

She feels bereft as soon as Rogers takes a step back but tells herself to ignore the feeling. Instead, she digs around in her jeans in the hopes of finding something to wipe her face clean. She’s pulling out lint when Rogers pulls a packet of wet wipes out of one of his belt pouches. 

With a wet snort, Natasha accepts. “You were a boy scout, weren’t you?” 

“No, I was too sick for it. But Bucky was. Guess you could say I was a scout by proxy.” 

She’s grateful he doesn’t say anything when she blows her nose with an inelegant honk before taking another wipe to clean her face. Rogers stands, a silent sentinel, watching her put herself back together. Her breathing stutters when he tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear, the gentle touch making her shiver. She knew those half-finger gloves were a good idea.

Her stomach turns to liquid when she catches Rogers’ gaze. There’s so much promise in that heated look, if only she’d allow it. “I hope you know you can depend on me,” Rogers murmurs quietly. “Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

She feels her throat dry up at the quiet words. He means it, she knows that because she knows him better now. There’s a burning sensation teasing her eyelids but she ignores it. She wants to say, “I know I can.” She wants to tell him, “I do already.” She wants to ask, “Whatever I need?” But her throat is dry as a bone and all she can do is swallow and nod. 

A squeeze and she wonders how long Rogers’ hands have been resting on her shoulders. Have they always been so big? So warm? So comforting? And here’s another question. How long have her hands been resting on Rogers’ chest? When’d _that_ happen? Her knee-jerk reaction is to take her hands back but her body resists, fingers sliding down a couple of inches instead to rest on top of Rogers’ abs. She feels Rogers’ shiver against her palms and feels like a mule kicked her in the chest. She stares up at Rogers, breathing unsteady and head dizzy. 

What is she _doing_?

She recognizes the look in Rogers’ eyes, the heat and desire burning in them. When he leans in, lips parted, Natasha holds onto the air in her lungs and starts to lean in too. There’s an almighty crash of thunder somewhere nearby that startles them both. They look up at the sky first and then out the alleyway, where they see Thor storming away from the bank and probably towards the police barrier. After exchanging an alarmed look, they run out of their hiding spot and into Clint, who hurriedly asks them to calm Thor down before he breaks a news van.

“He overheard one of them talking shit about one of the victims and now he wants them to meet Mjolnir, the hard way.”

“Natasha, can you?” Rogers asks.

“On it,” she answers, running after Thor.

It’s later, after dinner, when she slides up next to Rogers and says, “Thank you.”

A handful of dirty forks in hand, Rogers frowns in confusion and asks, “But it’s my turn to do the dishes this week?”

She laughs and starts stacking the plates together. “For before.”

“Scrape all the leftovers into that one before you stack them,” Rogers tells her before he dumps the cutlery into the sink. She’s busy doing that when he walks back. Their hands brush as she hands the plates over. The dry touch makes her breath stutter. Rogers’ smile compounds the breathing issue. “It’s nothing. You don’t have to thank me fo—"

“Steve.” She interrupts firmly, looking up to meet his surprised eyes. “ _Thank you_.”

She thought she knew what happiness looked on the man. But oh, she was _wrong_ . This. _This_ is happiness. She never realized you could make someone happy by simply saying their name and thanking them. It makes her feel powerful and powerless at the same time.

The way his lips move, it’s like he’s trying to ask something but he just says, voice husky, “Anytime.”

Two simple words and they make heat crawl up her neck and set up shop in her cheeks. Fuck. She’s 35, not 17 and being complimented by her crush! Also, when did these feelings develop? Where’d they come from? When did she get all soft for Steve Rogers, she bemoans later. But the fact is that she’s sweet on him. 

She wants to see him smile, wants to be the person to make him smile. She wants to grab him by the hand and pull him into the modern world. She wants to walk through the Avengers rec room in the dead night and not stumble across Steve sitting there watching old films with a sad look in his eyes. And okay, she really wants him to stop drinking milk out of the carton.

“That’s just disgusting,” she sighs. Steve’d caught sight of her walking into the kitchen but not before she’d seen _him_ drinking from the carton. The guilty look in his eyes brings back an old memory, the first time she’d walked in on him in this kitchen, and whoop, there’s remorse pricking her heart with its thorns. And just like that, Steve’s first few months at the Tower, and her subsequent attitude towards him, flash through her mind's eye. The thorns grow, lengthening to pierce through tender flesh and make her bleed.

All this time together, all the awful things she’d said, and she never once apologized for being an ass.

Natasha interrupts Steve’s apology with one of her own. “I’m sorry.” 

Steve stops mid-sentence, staring at her. She can’t bear it, the way he’s looking at her; her eyes drop down. Their relationship now is a far cry from where they used to be but she can’t help but wonder, what if she’d gotten her head out of her ass earlier? Would they have been friends sooner? Did their journey _have_ to be so tumultuous? 

(No. The thought makes her stomach cramp with shame.)

“I’m sorry I treated you like crap after you came here. You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have taken my issues out on you. That was really unfair of me and I’m sorry if I ever hurt you because of that.” She remembers the day when Steve’d walked in on her badmouthing him, remembers the way his shoulders had been hunched as he’d walked away after hearing her rant against him. If only she could go back in time and take those damned words back.

Natasha blinks furiously to keep the shameful tears at bay, unwilling to let them fall. She holds her breath, waiting for Steve to say something... anything... She braces herself when she hears him exhale, slow and measured.

“I’m not gonna lie. It hurt, the things you said. The way you’d act around me.” Steve begins. There’s care and intense deliberation behind each word. The weight of that consideration weighs on Natasha and makes her flinch because she doesn’t deserve it. “But... I wasn’t exactly... I wasn’t in a good place after waking up either. And I didn’t realize that you had a good enough reason to hate me because—"

“I didn’t hate _you_ ,” She interrupts, looking up because she _needs_ Steve to understand this. She beseeches him, “It was-’

“I know.” The gentle understanding in Steve’s eyes cuts her to the bone. “But you did hate the man behind the mask because you couldn’t be him. I get it now. I understand that it wasn’t personal. You just...” There’s so much hurt in his gaze and she knows that it’s for her, for her childhood, for all the hurt she’s endured. Doubtless he feels guilty for his role in it and she wants to tell him no. _No_. It wasn’t his fault at all. And then the hurt goes away. Like the dawning light that gently suffuses the sky, lightning the deep night sky into blush pink and pale blue, his gaze gentles and warms. 

“I accept your apology. Thank you.”

Natasha can’t help but melt under his gaze. She’s grateful for his forgiveness but she wants him to understand. It’s why she reaches out to touch his arm. “It wasn’t your fault either. How Howard treated me? That wasn’t ever your fault in any way.”

The surprise that flashes in his eyes before the tiniest bit of guilt sneaks in. Natasha tightens her grip and repeats herself, shifting so that she keeps his gaze even when he looks away. “Steve. It wasn’t your fault. You hear me?”

He waits a beat before nodding. Natasha lets out a breath. She feels like she’d been holding onto that breath for hours. Steve smiles at her, fondness sliding into shy hope when he asks, “It’s almost time for lunch. Do you wanna maybe go out and get something to eat?”

Heart fluttering, Natasha nods. “Let me grab my jacket.”

It’s not a date, that’s what she tells herself over and over again. Not that lunch or the one after that or the baseball game they go to afterwards or the movie they go to the next week. None of them are dates because Steve never once described them as dates. But when they’re at the MOMA, Natasha catches Steve looking at her with such yearning and fondness that she almost trips into an exhibit because her heart? It almost gives out. 

It sounds stupid but it’s easy to forget that Steve likes her and he doesn’t know she knows. They’re friends now and Steve hasn’t treated her any differently to the rest of the team. Bruce laughs at her when she says that. He _literally_ laughs in her face. She scowls at him as he turns to her and says, “Oh. You’re not joking.”

“Why would I joke about this?” she asks with pointed exasperation.

Bruce blinks at her in confusion. “You don’t think he treats you differently?” 

“ _He doesn’t_!”

“He kind of does. He gets... softer around you. He listens to what you’ve got to say. He doesn’t let you get away with shit either. Steve also makes sure that Clint and Thor don’t steal all the eclairs whenever someone brings donuts. He made sure to protect you with his shield when that bomb exploded on 9th. Then there’s—"

Natasha pretends her cheeks aren’t burning hot as she flaps an impatient hand at Bruce. “Alright already!”

It’s enough to make her wonder how she should respond to Steve. It doesn’t feel right to string the guy along. That’d be massively unfair. But she also kind of wants to thank him. Give him some kind of gift to show that she’s grateful for their friendship and his presence. A “thank you for being here and being you” gift. But what would say that best? 

Arms crossed over her chest as she broods at the monitor, Natasha asks JARVIS, “I’ll be going overboard if I built an art studio for him, won’t I?”

JARVIS says there’s a 71% chance that Steve won’t accept such an extravagant gift. Rhodey tells her to think small and meaningful, not over-the-top and meaningful. When she asks, “So like, jewellery?” she’s a little insulted that Rhodey sighs tiredly because what? Jewellery can be small but meaningful! 

“I was thinking more like finding a picture of him and his best friend, getting it touched up, and giving it to him?”

“That’s a great idea!” 

It’s the first time she doesn’t feel bitter going through Howard’s war photos. She winds up finding a couple of pictures she thinks Steve would appreciate—one of him with Erskine and the rest of the research team, another of the Howling Commandos, and one where Steve, Bucky Barnes, and DumDum are studiously looking down at a map.

She feels good about the gift, right up until she corners Steve in the living room with it. Steve’s expression crumples upon seeing the framed and restored pictures. Natasha wants to kick herself for putting the Erskine picture on top. Apologies fall out, half-formed and dismayed but Steve shakes his head. There’s a wet shine to his eyes when he looks up at her. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me. Thank you, Natasha.”

She’s going to give Rhodey all the War Machine upgrades he wants. _All of them_. Her gleeful plans are tossed out the window where Steve drops a quick kiss to her cheek and says, face red, “I’m gonna find a place to put these up.” and runs out of the living room. 

Natasha gapes at his retreating back before turning to Thor, who has been watching them quietly from his corner of the living room, and gesturing wildly in Steve’s direction. Thor nods slowly, approvingly, and says, “A bold move.”

“ _Him_?”

“And you. You’ve both made your intentions known.”

She doesn’t stomp out, no matter _what_ anyone says. And she _hadn’t_ been blushing, dammit! But Thor’s right—intentions have been made known. She lobbed the ball in Steve’s court and he immediately sent it flying back. It’s her move again. She’s back to thinking she wants to gift Steve with an art studio when Pepper intervenes and reminds her of the charity gala she’s supposed to attend in a week. Coupled with a not so subtle hint that _maybe_ it would be nice to invite Steve as her date. Natasha rolls that idea around in her head for a few hours. The next time Steve shows up at her lab, treats in tow, Natasha invites him to the gala. As her date. She leaves _no_ room for misunderstandings. Her life is hard enough as it is, she doesn’t want any stupid rom-com cliches going on to add to her blood pressure. 

Her heart goes into overdrive anyway when Steve looks at her, all happy-hopeful puppy dog eyes when he echoes, “A date?”

“It’s a date, that’s what I said.” Natasha says, trying to come across as nonchalant but probably comes across as weirdly over-determined. 

Thankfully, Steve just grins and repeats her. “It’s a date.”

Usually, she puts in the minimum amount of effort to prepare for these events. But this time, she calls her favorite designers and asks them if they’ve got something for her. She picks her own dress. She asks Pepper to book Brad to make her look glamorous. She gets a bikini wax, too. Just in case.

On the day, Brad gives her luscious vintage curls that pour down one shoulder. To keep the classy look going, they agree to keep makeup simple—emphasize the eyes and a bold red lip. She restlessly fidgets throughout the process, earning shoulder pokes from Brad and stern warnings to stay still. “Unless you _want_ crooked eyeliner?” he asks.

“I can’t help it!” Natasha complains. “I can’t wait to get into that dress.”

Brad turns to eye the dress that’s lying on the bed. It’s a floor-length gown, a rich burgundy color that shifts to black at the bottom. It has a deep, _deep_ V-neck, thin straps that wrap around her shoulders, a slit that goes up to the middle of her left thigh, and a low-cut back. It’s hardly the most daring thing she’s ever worn but something about this dress makes her feel especially sexy.

As soon as she’s got the dress on, she can’t help but turn her back to the mirror and grin at her reflection. She hopes Steve will gonna flip when he sees her. Heels, some tasteful jewellery, a faux fur stole, and she’s on her way down to the main rec room, where they’d agreed to meet. And it only took four hours. Ha. 

It’s all worth it, though, when Steve sees her. She walks out of the elevator and pauses upon realizing they’ve got an audience; the gang’s all here. But Steve only has eyes for her, double-taking hard as soon as he catches sight of her. He scrambles around the couch, eyes sweeping up and down her form like he can’t get enough of her. Natasha stops just out of his reach and does a slow twirl.

“What do you think?” She asks with a grin.

“You look… you look...” Steve starts. The dazed look on his face is worth a thousand words.

“Beautiful? Magnificent? Worthy of all praise?” Thor offers helpfully with a grin of his own.

“Like a babe? Sexy? Drop dead gorgeous?” Clint suggests.

Natasha laughs when Steve shoots the sniggering pair an annoyed look before he holds his arm out and asks, “Ready to go?”

She slips her hand into the crook of Steve’s arm and says, “As I’ll ever be.”

It’s a pleasant drive over to the venue. Steve shows off his new tux and patiently listens to her as she explains how Brad did her hair, because Steve had expressed wonder at how she’d managed to grow her hair out so fast. 

“Brad swears by these extensions,” she explains, gently shaking her head to show off how bouncy her hair is now. “Here, touch and see.” 

She obligingly shuffles closer to him and tilts her head his hair. She can hear Brad yelling his disapproval somewhere in the back of her head as Steve reaches out to carefully twirl a few strands of hair around a finger. She never knew she could be jealous of fake hair, yet here she is. 

Steve’s musings interrupt her jealousy. “I think I can tell the difference. The fake hair isn’t as smooth as your hair.”

“And how do you know how smooth my hair is?” 

“From the time you made me hold your hair up so that it wouldn’t get burnt when you were welding—"

“Oh right, right.” 

She remembers that day. She’d almost burnt her own wrist because of the feeling of Steve’s fingers raking through her hair to collect it into a rough ponytail. Just remembering it sends tingles racing down her spine. A couple of days later, Steve had bought her a big claw hair clip with a plea to please use it in the future to protect her hair. 

Before she knows it, they’re at the venue and pulling up in front of the red carpet. She checks her lipstick in a mirror, gives her hair one last plump, and adjusts the stole to show off a tasteful amount of skin. Natasha’s trying to figure out how much of her back she wants to show off when Steve makes an odd noise next to her. She glances over at him and sees him staring with wide-eyed surprise at her back. _Oh_ , she realizes. _He didn’t know..._

Testing her hypothesis, Natasha lets the stole dip a little further down. Steve’s eyes follow the move, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes in how low the backless dress goes. Flattered and pleased by the tongue-tied look on Steve’s handsome face, Natasha asks, “How do I look?”

Steve looks her over, slow and careful, making heat pool in her belly. The hunger in Steve’s eyes sparks several dangerous ideas, all of them starting with grabbing Steve’s hand and telling him, fuck the gala. Let’s go somewhere else, somewhere private. She can see that desire mirrored in Steve’s eyes when they finally come back to her face. She’s ready to act. All Steve needs to do is say the word. Give a signal of _some kind.._. 

“You look beautiful.”

Fuck. _Fuck_ this gala. She’ll buy her way back into Pepper’s good graces later. For now she’s going to—

Happy opens the car door. She’s going to fire him. The poor man looks between them and sighs, “Sorry. But duty calls, boss.”

She’s never hated her duty more. Steve huffs out a soft laugh. He raises a hand up but stops himself from messing up his hair. She can’t help but smile at the wry expression he makes at that. She pats his arm. Any other day, any other person, and she’d make a joke implying she wants to get this over with. But this is a date with _Steve_. So she says, “Let’s go.”

[ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21522874)

It hits her that maybe this wasn’t the best idea for a first date, wading into socialite-shark-infested waters with a new beau on her arm. Not that they know that she and Steve are on a date but… high society, you know. Everyone’s keen to gossip and her showing up on Captain America’s arm is going to keep the rumor mill going for weeks. The amount of people who imply or straight up ask if they’re dating is _annoying_ . It’s also practically _everyone_ they talk to. The first time they’re asked this, Natasha feels her stomach clench with worry because they haven’t talked about this. It’s just the first date! 

Steve wriggles his way out of an answer and pulls Natasha aside, apologizing under his breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you thinking I don’t want to date, because I do! But I don’t think this is the right time or place to talk about it.”

Relieved, Natasha blows a breath out and squeezes Steve’s arm reassuringly. “Same. On both fronts.” 

She wants to say it gets better after that but it doesn’t. It’s a lot of shmoozing, fake smiles, and guilt tripping people enough to open their wallets wide. At least it’s all for a good cause. Natasha’s ready to call it a night about 90 minutes into the whole affair and then she catches sight of a familiar face across the room. And unfortunately, Ty catches sight of _her_ at the same time as well.

“Fuck,” Natasha hisses, turning on her heel, heart racing nervously as she hopes that Ty isn’t going to approach her. She doesn’t have it in her to deal with him (she doesn’t think she _ever_ will). In front of her, leaning against the bar waiting for their orders, Steve makes an inquisitive noise and half-turns towards her. She fights the urge to hide between Steve and the bar top but compromises by stepping up against his side. 

“Do you see a blond guy walking up to us?” She says in a low voice. Steve’s eyes tick up over her shoulder, searching the room as she elaborates. “A little shorter than you, curly hair, black tux?”

“That’s still a lot of guys,” Steve points out.

“He looks extra obnoxious?” Natasha points out hopefully.

“That’s everyone.” That has her hiding her amused snort behind her hand. She starts and immediately melts when Steve’s arm draws her closer. “Is he a threat?”

It’s with the smallest beat of reluctance that she admits, “Yes. But not Avengers-level. He’s a personal pain in the ass.”

Steve’s arm tightens minutely before he brushes a quick kiss into her hair. “Say the word and we’ll leave.”

Grateful and relieved, she pulls Steve in for a hug. Natasha didn’t think a day would come where being around Steve would make her feel safe and secure but wow. That’s today! “Thank you,” she murmurs into his shirt. 

Steve’s hand rubs comforting lines up and down her back. “Someone’s coming. I think it’s your guy,” he whispers into her ear.

Fuck. Natasha’s not ready for this. It’s been years since they last met but...

“Natasha,” Ty says, “Fancy meeting you here. You don’t usually show up to these parties.”

_Show time_ , she tells herself before she turns around, a bright smile plastered on. “Tiberius.”

Time has been good to Tiberius Stone; he’s as handsome and dashing as ever. He looks her over with a lazy, smug smile that has Steve’s hand tightening on her waist. “You look good. Who’s your date?” 

“Steve Rogers,” Steve introduces himself.

Tiberius hums before turning back to her. “New boyfriend, Cleopatra?”

The old nickname sends a cold chill racing up her spine. “None of your business, _Tiberius_.”

The man holds his palms up with a smile. I’m not a threat, his body language says. But she’s not going to be fooled twice. “Just trying to make small talk. No need to bite my head off.”

There’s no such thing as “just” making small talk with Tiberius. The man’s as slippery as a snake in water and twice as cunning. Fuck. At least Steve’s gotten the hint that the less said to Ty, the better. Oh hell, she’s gonna have to explain her whole story with Ty later, isn’t she? Fuck. She’s not looking forward to the drive back now.

“So, Steve. What do you do for a living?”

“I work with SHIELD.”

“Oh,” Ty says with barely disguised disdain. “A government employee.”

Nope. She’s not letting this happen. As Steve is gearing up to answer back, Natasha tightens her grip on Steve’s waist and interrupts with a, “We have to go.”

Ignoring the surprised noise Steve makes, Natasha hauls him away because she’s done. She’s tapping out. She waits for Steve to point out how terribly rude and abrupt that exit was but he’s quick to match her pace as they power walk to the exit. He doesn’t say anything until they’re safely in the back of their limo.

“Who was that guy?”

Natasha swallows, dry throat clicking. It’s too cold in here. “Ex-boyfriend.” 

She expects Steve to push, ask for more details. But he doesn’t. Instead, he very carefully shifts to kneel in front of her and asks, “Can I hold you?”

Trembling, Natasha pulls him into her, against her, fingers digging into Steve’s jacket. She squeezes her eyes shut as she breathes in Steve’s cologne, reminding herself that she’s long past the days where Ty kept her under his thumb. The hands stroking her back are gentle, the voice comforting her is reassuring. It’s a fight to stay in the moment and not return to being 16 and wondering what’s wrong with her. 

A couple of days later, in her lab, she makes Steve sit down on a stool before she tells him about Ty, the abridged version anyways. They dated, he was an asshole, he hit her once, she left him. They met again shortly after she and Rumiko came out, and then he seduced Natasha’s fiancee away. Natasha paces the whole time, actively avoiding looking in Steve’s direction because she doesn’t know how he’ll react. Fuck. She doesn’t know how she wants him to react either.

Her nerves eat her up from the inside out, anxiety and adrenaline keeping her mouth and legs moving as she overexplains herself because she’s feeling defensive. The compulsion pushes against her teeth; tell him, tell him everything, explain yourself fully so that he doesn’t doubt you.

The word vomit only stops when Steve snags her wrist and forces her to a stop. There’s so much concern in his blue eyes, it brings everything in her to a halt. He doesn’t get up but he doesn’t let go of her hand either when he asks, “Do you want to take a break? Go for a walk? Or get some fresh air?”

It feels like she’s falling to pieces from the inside out. Hell, she’s even shaking like a leaf! Natasha shakes her head, “No. I just need you to understand what me and Ty were.”

“I understand enough,” Steve tells her, squeezing her wrist gently. “And what I don’t understand? We can talk about it later. Right now, you need to sit down, have some water, and maybe eat something.”

She hears DUM-E let out a happy string of beeps before he zips away to the blender. Steve laughs quietly as he makes her sit next to him on the cot. “I guess DUM-E’s got us covered.”

“Do you believe me?” Natasha blurts out for some stupid reason. Embarrassment floods her immediately, along with a flood of censure. Part of it is suppressed memories of ‘friends’ telling her she should just deal with Ty’s jealousy because it’s part and parcel of being in a relationship with a rich guy. Another part of it comes from the gossip she’d overheard on campus, how Ty apparently had been spreading rumors about how she was such an easy lay and _he_ broke up with _her_. Another part of her, which sounds like Jenny, tells her to be kind to herself for asking the question.

Steve holds her gaze and tells her, “Always.”

It’s probably fucked up that she feels gratitude towards Steve but. Well. She’s never been well-adjusted. So she touches Steve’s arm, signalling intent as she starts to lean in. The butterflies in her stomach go into a frenzy when she sees Steve leaning in, eyes at half-mast. Their lips are _this close_ to touching when JARVIS interrupts, citing an Avengers emergency. Apparently Doom’s robots are crawling around Central Park. 

“I’m going to wipe the floor with Doom and his shit bots,” she complains, right as Steve’s head drops on her shoulder with an irritated groan. 

“Not if I beat you to it.” he grumbles. 

There’s no controlling the shiver that runs through her frame or the heat that pools between her thighs when Steve’s words brush her throat. Natasha wants to pull Steve down and kiss him, Doombots be damned. It’s easy to see that Steve would be on board with the idea. She can see it in his eyes when he pulls back. And she’s never hated herself more than when she says, “We should uh... go?”

Doom’s on her permanent shitlist for interrupting her first kiss with Steve. So is most of the universe after that because it seems to her that everyone is conspiring against her lips meeting Steve’s. They don’t get a free minute to themselves for days. First, there’s Avengers calls pouring in and then she gets called to Central Asia for some important business meeting, _and then!_ Some hack decides it’s a good idea to try and kidnap her! Well. They actually do succeed in kidnapping her. She’s got the bump on her noggin to prove it. 

It’s the slightest bit embarrassing that someone snuck up on her and knocked her out cold but, Natasha tells herself as she ignores the ringing noise in her ears and transforms her chunky bracelet into a mini-gauntlet with a double-tap, if she manages to rescue herself then no one needs to know. But, as she finds out upon her return, word of her kidnapping had gotten out. She bites down a tired sigh when her frazzled assistant tells her that the Avengers have been notified and Captain America wants to talk to her ASAP. 

It’s a good excuse to flap the EMTs away and call Steve to reassure him that she’s okay, everything’s okay, it was just some idiots thinking she was an easy target. She expects worry and concern from Steve. She expects him to ask if she’s hurt and if he should come to her. She expects him to be _Steve_ about it, if that makes any sense.

What she gets is... well. Not exactly what she anticipated. Steve’s worried, that’s for sure. But something about it all seems _off_ to her. She spends most of the night going over their conversation, trying to figure out what’s making her gut twist itself into knots. Was it the way Steve hadn’t asked any questions? ( _Maybe he was just giving me room to talk._ ) Or maybe it was the way Steve had implied she couldn’t take care of herself ( _Which was seriously unnecessary. He knows I can take care of myself. But he was right, I should have kept my guard up._ ) She falls into an uneasy sleep.

Next thing she knows, she’s back home. She walks into the Tower with a skip in her step, eager to meet Steve and see if he wants to go out to dinner with her. If everything goes well, she’ll get her kiss this time without any interruptions. But then JARVIS tells her that Steve’s not here.

Natasha frowns, “Not in the lab?” 

He’d confessed, rather shyly, that he liked spending time in the lab when she was away. Saying he felt closer to her when he did his work there. _If he’s not in the lab, where else could he be?_ She wonders.

JARVIS answers, “Not in the Tower, Sir.”

“Not in the Tower?” Natasha echoes, feeling hurt gather itself into a lump in her throat. “He knew I was coming back today, right? You told him?”

Steve had been visibly sad when she’d told him that she had to leave. He’d said that he was looking forward to her coming back. _Maybe he forgot?_ She rationalizes. _Maybe he didn’t check his calendar?_

“I put your arrival time into his calendar, as you requested.”

“Oh.” The lump grows in size. Natasha rubs her mouth and tells herself she’s overreacting. She’s had an exhausting couple of days; she’s tired. That’s why there’s wetness gathering in her eyes. There’ll be a reasonable explanation why Steve isn’t here when she’s back. “Grow up,” she whispers to herself. “This isn’t something to cry over. You’re not a kid.”

As it turns out, there’s a simple explanation for why Steve hadn’t been there to welcome her: he’d gone to visit some kids at a hospital and forgotten about the time. _See?_ She tells herself with a mental kick to the head, watching Steve tape up his hands. _Told you so._

“You didn’t come see me after you came back though.” Natasha can’t help but point out, heart palpitating with nerves. 

Steve breathes out through his nose, pausing for a second. Her nervousness intensifies when he shoots her a quick look of forced patience. “I thought you’d be tired after your flight. I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

The explanation leaves her feeling chastised. Natasha looks away, teeth worrying her bottom lip. _See? See?_ The voice in her head croons. _Overreacting for nothing. Steve was just being considerate. Stop being such a worrywart. Everything’s okay._

_No, it’s not. No, it’s not_ , another voice screams from her gut as she watches Steve turn away and start hitting the sandbag. _Something’s not right!_

But what? Natasha wracks her brain for the rest of the day. What’s wrong in this equation? There’s a sharp pain throbbing deep in her head, near the base of the skull. She rubs at the spot, squeezing the muscles as she asks JARVIS to lower the brightness of the holograms she’s working on. She’s been staring at them too long if they’re starting to give her a headache. 

It’s just exhaustion and feeling overworked. That’s all there is to it. Doesn’t she get over emotional and prone to paranoid thoughts when she’s tired? Natasha knows it’s a fault, arguably her worst habit, indulging in worst case scenarios like they’ll become reality. She just needs some rest. 

Natasha opens her eyes and immediately regrets her decision. The pain in her head intensifies at the sight of the holograms. _I guess lowering their opacity didn’t help._ Sighing, Natasha waves a hand and minimizes the holograms. She’s not getting any more work done today. Unbidden, her eyes shift to what has become ‘Steve’s place’ in her lab. The low-grade worry that’s been gnawing at the pit of her stomach intensifies, because Steve hasn’t come down to visit her all day. He’s been bringing a lot of his work down into the lab for weeks now... why hasn’t he come today?

She pushes her trepidation aside and asks JARVIS to call Steve. A display pops up immediately, with Steve’s picture on top and “Calling” underneath. There’s got to be a rational explanation for this. Steve’s probably busy. And just because he’s been visiting her every day for a couple of weeks doesn’t mean that’s how it’s always going to be. Steve’s got just as many responsibilities as she has. More if you take into account how many charities he helps out with. She’s worrying too much.

Steve picks up her call after a few rings and brusquely asks, “What is it?” 

Her warm greeting dies in her throat. Natasha swallows harshly before asking, “Hey. I was just wondering where you were? I haven’t seen you since this morning.” For some reason, her heart races in her chest. It thuds painfully against her ribs with every beat. Natasha and tells herself to calm down. She just needs to fucking calm down. There’s nothing wrong with what she’s asked. 

“I’ve been busy.” Steve replies. “Fury wanted me to come to SHIELD to check something out.”

There. See? A logical explanation. “Ah. Villain of the week?”

“Not exactly. He wanted a fresh pair of eyes on a mission. Thought I might be able to help.”

Natasha exhales, releasing the tension in her shoulders. Work talk. Okay. “What are the details?”

“Can’t say.”

That’s weird. She raises an eyebrow as she asks, mostly jokingly, “Can’t say? Since when is your clearance higher than mine?”

“Since I became the leader of the Avengers.”

She freezes in her seat, suddenly uncertain of everything. A low whine builds in her ears. She didn’t think... What’s with that tone? Steve’s not the kind of guy who’d... He’s never been _curt_ with her like that. That was just a joke. She’s made this joke before. He’d joked back, he hadn’t made her feel... Fuck. _Fuck_ . She presses the palm of her hand against her head, hissing through her teeth at the sudden spike of pain. _What the hell’s going on? Why can’t I... Shit, I’m going to throw up_.

Vertigo and nausea slam into her, the whining noise growing. Bile comes out of her; she barely manages to miss throwing up on herself. Her vision whites out. Distantly, Natasha feels her body slam into the ground. Her shoulder aches against the concrete floor. _No. That’s not right_ , she thinks, blinking rapidly. _My lab floors aren’t concrete. They’re black tiles. I picked them out myself._

Something’s wrong... Something’s really, really wrong. Her vision swims, blurring the view before her. No matter how hard she blinks, the white doesn’t go away. Natasha tries to raise herself up but something’s holding her down. She moves her heavy head to look down at her wrists and stares dumbly at the restraints there. _What? What are... What the hell keeps beeping?_

She fumbles out of the blankets covering her, reaching out towards the source of the incessant beeping. Her fingertips hit something cold and smooth. Mindless with pain, Natasha tries to make sense of what she’s feeling. A monitor? That doesn’t make any sense. Those things don’t beep.

The whine in her ears reaches a fever pitch. The sob burrowed in her throat comes out as a cough along with what’s left in her stomach. Natasha hears water and spit hit the ground with a soft splat. _What’s wrong with me?_ She wonders dizzily.

A warm touch on her wrist draws Natasha’s gaze up. Pale gold pierces through the white light. She squints up, struggling to keep her eyes open. _Steve_? She wonders as a broad palm covers her eyes. Someone calls her name but she’s swallowed by the dark. 

The next time she wakes, she’s in her own bed. The blinds slowly open to let the morning light into her room. Overhead, JARVIS is telling her she’s got ten emails marked very important from Stark Industries and a couple of interviews lined up around noon. Natasha massages the last of her headache away and wonders when she went to bed last night.

“JARVIS, when’d I come in last night?” she asks as she slides out of her bed.

“1:54AM, Sir. You fell asleep in your lab. However, Captain Rogers brought you to your room.”

“Huh,” Natasha says. She has the vague recollection of dropping her head down on the table to nap and seeing Steve’s blond hair through blurry eyes but nothing more than that. _I must have been more tired than I thought. Whatever._

After a hard stretch, Natasha gets out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom. A fog hangs over her head, making each action blur into the next. She yawns on her way to the kitchen, hoping that coffee and Steve are going to help her wake up. Steve’s already in the kitchen, sitting in Bruce’s chair as he reads the paper. Natasha smiles at the familiar sight, heart warming when Steve looks up and smiles at her. 

“Morning, sleepy head.” he greets.

“Morning.” Natasha repeats, smile growing. She heads for the coffee machine first and pauses in confusion. Steve makes sure that there’s a cup of espresso waiting for her in the morning. But there’s nothing today. She turns around with the question on her lips but freezes, staring at Steve’s figure lit up against the New York skyline.

_Has his hair always been that light?_ She wonders, puzzled. _Wasn’t it a darker blond? Doesn’t he look smaller too? Has he lost weight?_ Without realizing it, Natasha draws closer to Steve. With every step, more and more of his features seem _wrong_ . His nose... the shape of his forehead... They’re not... _right_. Dark concern solidifies in the pit of her stomach when Steve looks up and asks, “Something wrong?”

She opens her mouth to say, no. Yes. Maybe? But before she can get the words out, the floor underneath her feet rocks. A shocked noise slips through her lips, face snapping up to ask JARVIS, “Earthquake?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Who’s even heard of an earthquake in New York?” she wonders, looking over at Steve, who is frowning darkly at... at the elevator? Why the hell is he staring at the elevator? Is he waiting for the others? _Wait..._ Natasha pauses, eyes turning back to the fridge where the chore chart hangs. Today’s Thor’s turn to make breakfast. And if there’s one thing Thor enjoys, it’s making food for the whole team. 

Now that she thinks about it, where _is_ everyone? She hasn’t seen anyone else in the Tower for two days now. Clint hasn’t sent any messages on their group chat. Natasha hasn’t come in to test her Bite upgrades. Thor isn’t here force feeding her more waffles than she can handle. And Bruce hasn’t sighed over her sleeping habits. It’s just been her and Steve...

The weight in her stomach sinks, taking the rest of her soul with it. In the hollowed out space, an unnamed feeling creeps in. It chills her from the inside out when the light haloing Steve intensifies to the point she can’t see his features. There’s a dark shadow standing in front of her. Gooseflesh rising up on her arms, Natasha takes a step back. She squints as she tries to make sense of what she’s seeing. _Who_ she’s looking at. Something starts beeping incessantly. 

“What’s going on?” she hears herself asking, staggering a little. Was that an aftershock? Why can’t she stay on her feet? “JARVIS? What’s going on?”

One second, Steve’s standing against the windows and the next, he’s right in her face. No. She’s kneeling at his feet because the light’s still too bright. She can’t see him. Just his dark silhouette. _Too close_ , she wants to say, wincing as she raises her hand to shield her eyes. But Steve grabs her hand. _Too tight_ , Natasha wants to cry out, pain shooting up her arm.

A familiar voice hisses, “Why are you fighting this?”

_Fighting what? What’s going on?_

She falls. 

Straight into her bed with a gasp, eyes flying open just in time to catch Steve’s lust-filled expression before he captures her lips in a heated kiss. Natasha melts into the touch, moaning when Steve pushes her down into bed and whispers, “Don’t fight this.”

“Why would I?” she whispers back, nipping lightly on his bottom-lip before she tugs on his shirt. “Take this off.”

Steve pulls back, complying immediately with her request. Natasha smiles up at the man, eyes greedily taking in the sight of him. God... he’s better than anything she’d ever imagined. “I’ve imagined this moment so many times...” she confesses, pressing her hand against Steve’s heart. He’s not as warm as she thought he’d be. Didn’t he say that he ran a little hotter than the average person?

She shivers at his rough tone when he asks, “Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

“We haven’t really done anything yet,” she quips back, grinning when Steve lowers himself down on his elbows. It should be sexy, comforting, to be in bed with Steve. To be in such close proximity with the man she loves. But when he pins her down under his body, every part of her wants to scream. Her body shuts down when Steve tucks his face against her neck and nips at the flesh there. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” Natasha breathes out.

“That’s the plan, sweet cheeks.”

_Sweet cheeks?_

Before she can process the fact that Steve just called her _sweet cheeks_ , he kisses her again. She winces, whining in hurt when he bites too hard at her bottom lip. “Fuck,” she groans but Steve covers her mouth again, in a more insistent kiss. It’s possession. It’s too hard. It’s not the kind of kiss she’d expected from Steve.

_Wait..._

Natasha’s eyes snap open. 

_We haven’t kissed before. How did we get to my room? Something’s wrong. This isn’t right! This isn’t right!_

She tries to push Steve away but he grabs both her hands and pins them over her head. “Come now darling,” he croons. “Didn’t you want this?”

“I want it with _Steve_ !” Natasha hisses back, squirming and bucking with all her strength. Somehow, she manages to create enough space between them to kick not-Steve in the chest. He tumbles out of the bed with an _oof_. Heart in her throat, she rolls away to the other side, body dropping into a defensive stance. “Who the hell are you?”

“You can’t even recognize the man you love?” Steve snaps back, kneeling on the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you, Natasha?”

Self-doubt rears its ugly head for a second but Natasha pushes it away. Her body knows what’s true even if her eyes are playing tricks on her. And she’s never ever felt unsafe around Steve. Her skin has never crawled, her heart has never sank. She’s never felt _disgusted_ by Steve’s touch. 

“You’re not Steve.” She insists. 

Steve’s handsome features twist into an ugly, frustrated expression. Maybe it’s the fact that she knows it’s not Steve or maybe it’s just the fact that she vocalized that belief, but their surroundings start to change. The richy navy blue of her bedsheets fades to a gentle robin’s egg blue. The bed itself seems to shrink. Light creeps in through the walls, lighting up her room. _This isn’t my room_ , Natasha realizes when the painting on the wall fades away to nothing. _Where the hell am I? Who the hell is this guy?_

Her heart threatens to beat out of her chest as she watches Steve’s features melt. The dark blond lightens, slicked back hair gentling into messy waves. The nose broadens a little. The face structure changes, widens until Tiberius’ furious expression bores into her. 

“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you Natasha?” He sneers at her, sweeping his hair back over his head. Angry red blotches stand out on his face as he rises up to his feet. The anger in his eyes brings back unwelcome memories. A whimper crawls up her throat but Natasha forces it back down with a hard swallow. “You couldn’t just do what were you told to do.”

“What the hell are y-?” Natasha starts to ask, body screaming at her to get away from him, but stops when she realizes she can’t move. There are restraints keeping her pinned to the hospital bed. It feels like she’s got something on her head too, something clunky and metallic. And if she’s not mistaken, there’s something sharp poking into the base of her skull. “What the hell is this? What’s going on?”

Tiberius walks up to her, fury pouring off him in waves. The whimper returns, transforming into a cry when she realizes she’s trapped. There’s nowhere for her to go, no way to avoid Ty’s hand as it wraps around her neck. Choking, Natasha thrashes on the bed but Ty simply tightens his grip. Black spots dance in front of her eyes.

“If you’d _just_ listened to me!” Ty hisses at her. “Why couldn’t you ever fucking _listen_!”

Fuck. She’s going to pass out. Any second now, she’s going to-

A mighty _boom!_ shakes the building, causing Ty to stagger to his knees. Natasha gasps, filling her lungs with much needed air, over and over again while a series of smaller explosions go off somewhere nearby. _Is someone attacking us?_ she wonders distantly. Somewhere below her, Tiberius is cursing up a storm.

Right as the blond straightens himself up, the door to her room blows open. Their heads turn towards the entrance simultaneously. Natasha blinks at the single red gauntlet that zips through the door.

_Oh_ , she thinks with surprise and delight, straightening her hand into a sharp line. _The Mark 38 works!_ She hadn’t had time to do any field tests with the autonomous prehensile propulsion suit. _Guess this’ll be it._

“What the hell is that?” Ty spits out, making a desperate lunge for the flying gauntlet, but it’s too late. It slips past him and onto Natasha’s hand, arc reactor glowing a comforting blue as she flexes her hand. She doesn’t have any room to maneuver but thankfully, Tiberius’ half-turned figure is right in her line of sight. Twisting her wrist into the repulsor-activation pose, she manages to land a shot straight in the middle of Ty’s back. He goes down with a yelp, writhing on the floor in pain.

Good, she thinks viciously, turning her attention to her restraints. A quick blast takes care of the strap wrapped around her ankles. The one around her waist is a tad trickier but she manages to cut it in two as well, although not without burning herself in the process. Natasha hisses at the sharp line of heat that burns from her side down to her hip. That’s gonna leave a mark. She’ll deal with it later. How is she going to get her hands free?

_Maybe if I..._ Natasha raises her arm to pull her restraints and turns her palm, making it face the inside of her wrist. It’s hard to get a clear look at where she’s aiming but she figures it’s worth a shot. Worst comes to worst, she’ll burn her wrist too. No big deal. With a gulp, Natasha squeezes her eyes shut, bracing herself for the pain. The repulsor whines softly in readiness. She exhales and takes a chance. 

Her stomach sinks as soon as the shot fires, ready for the heat of repulsor burn to sear her arm, but there’s nothing. Right as she tentatively opens her eyes, another explosion, larger than the ones before, rocks the building. It must have happened somewhere underneath because it sends her bed flying in the air. She twists in midair, which is a mistake because she’s still attached to the bed by one wrist and it jerks her back down. The repulsor burn on her hip meets the railing, making white spots dance in front of her eyes.

Blinking the tears away, Natasha raises her shaking hand to break the last of her restraints. _I’m never getting the smell of burnt plastic out of my nose_ , she thinks, angrily grabbing whatever it is strapped to her head and throwing it to the ground. It looks like the mind reading device Doc wore in Back to the Future—utterly ridiculous. 

Across the room, Ty’s back on his feet and he looks ready to kill. Adrenaline rushes through her as he takes a menacing step forward. Natasha raises her gauntlet in warning. “Don’t. One more move and I’ll take you down Tiberius.”

“Don’t be like that, Cleopatra,” Ty tries, holding his hands up. 

“Don’t be what? _Pissed_ that you kidnapped me?” Natasha trembles with the force of her anger. “When the hell did you do it? Was it at the gala?” Ty smirks at her, smug and amused. Not the party then. When else could it… She bares her teeth at him. “You ordered those brats to get me.”

“Didn’t think it’d be _that easy_ to get to Iron Woman. Maybe you shouldn’t be part of the Avengers if all it takes to bring you down is a few guys and some chloroform.” 

It would be so easy, _so damn easy_ , to shoot Ty in his stupid face and shut him up. But she refrains. Instead she hisses, “What the hell do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted. _You_ , Cleopatra. I want you by my side.”

The urge to scream swells in Natasha. She indulges it, yelling, “What the hell is wrong with you? _We broke up in college, Tiberius!_ ”

“That doesn’t mean you weren’t the one for me, Natasha. If you’d just stayed in the Dreamvision. If you’d just fucking _listened_ to me then I wouldn’t have to hurt you like this! But you couldn’t even behave in your goddamn dreams! You just had to be a stubborn bitch about everything!”

Outside, somewhere in the corridor, she hears someone calling out her name. It sounds like Rhodey. Hope swells in her, pushing her voice higher than she planned as Natasha yells back, “In here!” 

Furious, Tiberius snarls, “You’re not getting away from me again! I won’t let you.” 

Before she can tell Ty he’s got no say in the matter, he rushes her. The fucking idiot runs straight at her and then has the gall to look surprised when she raises her palm up and shoots him straight in the chest. For a split second, Ty hangs in mid-air, shocked expression highlighted by the blue light of her repulsor. She blinks and he’s flying backward through the air. He crashes to the floor with a thud and a cracking noise that makes Natasha wince.

_Oh God! Did I kill him? Fuck!_ She wonders, taking a tentative step forward. Ty doesn’t stir and the burn on his chest makes her stomach churn with guilt. But she can see that he’s breathing, which is disappointing and relief inducing at the same time.

As she takes a step away from Ty’s unconcious body, twin cries of “Natasha!” draw her attention to the doorway. Rhodey and Steve are standing in the doorway, all suited up. Steve’s got one hand on the doorway, which has cracked under his grip. Oh. That’s what had broken, not some of Ty’s bones. _Pity_ , she thinks with a twinge of disappointment. She’s not going to focus on Ty, especially when Rhodey and Steve are rushing up to her. 

She stumbles forward, visibly trembling but arms thrown wide open to accept them both. Rhodey doesn’t hesitate to gather her up in a hug, squeezing her tight as he breathes out, “Thank God you’re okay!” 

Steve however, stays back, hovering an indecisive moment before he touches her. His eyes rake over her form as he asks, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

For a split second, she doubts what she’s seeing. How does she know this isn’t still a dream? What if this is all part of Ty’s plan? Some weird attempt to convince her to let her guard down so that he can trap her? But then Steve’s eyes lock with hers and peace settles over her. That’s what had been bothering her the most: the Steve she kept interacting with in her dreams, in Ty’s dreams: his eyes were too cold. Her Steve’s eyes are kind and warm. Eyes really are the windows to one’s soul; Natasha gets it now.

“Natasha?” Rhodey interrupts her thoughts.

Smiling first at Rhodey and then at Steve, probably a little shakily, she gestures for Steve to come closer. She grips his gloved hand tight, feeling grounded when Steve squeezes her fingers. The adrenaline in her system starts to fade as her body begins to understand that the worst is over. 

“I’m okay,” she tells them both. “Just a little bruised and battered.”

“A little?” Steve asks dubiously, eyes lingering on the burn mark on her torso. Wow, now that she’s got the time to look at it, it looks bad. Natasha winces and sees Steve’s body twitch in response. He takes half a step back but she follows, a full step forward straight into Steve’s arms. Her eyes close, a sigh slipping out of her lips, because this is her safe space. Her Steve. “Nata—"

“I’ll be fine.” She interrupts, gently but firmly, giving his torso a quick squeeze before looking up at Steve. She tries to smile but the adrenaline crash is _real_. The emotional roller coaster she’s been on for who knows how long is coming to its end and it’s bringing hot tears with it. 

Sniffing harshly, Natasha swallows and asks her boys, “How long was I out?”

“A couple of days. When you missed your check-in at the hotel, they called the office. Pepper called me as soon as they realized you’d been taken.” Rhodey tells her, armored hand resting gently on her back. “Sorry it took us a while.” 

She shakes her head hard because no. That’s not something Rhodey or anyone should apologize for. She’s grateful that they came in the first place. Steve tucks a few strands of loose hair behind her ear before taking over the explanation. The gentleness of his touch makes her tremble. “Clint tracked down the guys who kidnapped you. Natasha made them sing but they didn’t know where Stone was keeping you. Trying to figure that out and connecting Stone to the kidnapping...”

The genuine remorse in Steve’s voice makes her heart soar. _That’s another way the Steve I dreamed of was different. There’s so many ways he was different and somewhere I knew even if I couldn’t put it into words_. She touches Steve’s cheek, blinking the tears away before directing a smile at Rhodey, who stands at her left. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Steve turns his face to press a kiss to the palm of her hand, right on top of the gauntlet. His smile is wan but amused. “Rhodey said you’d probably rescue yourself. Not sure what you need us for.”

“I need a pretty boy on both arms while I walk away like a badass,” she jokes, voice hiccuping in the middle. There’s a sob rattling around in her chest. Natasha knows if she lets that one out, it’s going to multiply and turn into a full on cry-fest. But this isn’t the place for it.. 

“I’d steal your thunder,” Rhodey says without missing a beat, making Steve stare and Natasha bark out a wild laugh. With incredible tenderness, Rhodey strokes the back of her cheek with one finger before he gestures over at Ty’s prone body. “I’ll leave you two love birds alone and deal with him.”

“Thanks Rhodey,” Natasha says, pouring all her gratitude into those two words. 

He gives her a quick wink and a smile before ambling away, leaving her alone with Steve. Who is staring at her like he hasn’t seen her in years. Natasha clears her throat and asks, “Where are the others?” 

“Natasha’s downstairs with Bruce trashing the servers running that,” Steve nods over at the weird helmet Ty’d forced onto her. “Thor’s taking care of the goons who were supposed to be keeping watch. Clint’s doing a check of the building to make sure there’re no other surprises.” 

“Speaking of. What the hell did Ty do to me?”

“Best we can tell, Stone stole some technology meant to observe brain waves and changed it so that it could project people’s dreams externally and then manipulate them. Natasha’s deleting anything he may have recorded of you. Bruce is trying to figure out if there’s any long-term impact on your health. Some of the drugs that Stone used were pretty dangerous.” Steve pulls an adorably confused face before apologetically shaking his head. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to ask him for more details.”

She gently pats Steve’s arm to console him before gently asking. “And the armor?”

“Rhodey’s idea. Bit of a Hail Mary,” Steve answers with a crooked grin. Rhodey looks up at the sound of his name, pausing as he zipties Ty’s hands behind his back. Ty’s still out like a light. “We were running out of ideas on how to find you in time when he suggested it. He said something about... you’d installed some homing chips that might draw the armor to you?”

“I’d like the record to state that just because that idea worked out this time? I still don’t think it’s a good idea to put homing beacons inside yourself.” Rhodey chimes in as he finishes what he’s doing and lets Ty fall back to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

If Steve hadn’t keep going, Natasha’d argue about that because uh, hello? This situation is the perfect example for why it’s a _great_ idea. “When JARVIS activated the armor, he was able to pinpoint your location. But most of the armor kind of... fell to pieces. A couple of pieces managed to—"

Natasha faceplants into Steve’s chest as something smacks into the back of her head. Yelping, she raises her hand to touch her head, wondering, “What the fuck wa—oh.” That’s the back half of her helmet attaching itself to her head. Note to self, figure out a way to make that less painful.

Rhodey, who had raised his arm up at her pained cry, dryly says, “I think that armor needs some more work, Tasha.”

Natasha shoots Rhodey a half-hearted annoyed look. Steve, says. “Like I was saying. A couple of pieces managed to fly out the Tower. That part of your helmet, the glove, and a boot. Something went wrong with the boot’s jets though.”

Still rubbing the back of her head through the helmet, Natasha blinks up at Steve He looks like he’s struggling to keep a grin down. “What was wrong with it?”

“It couldn’t fly. So it, uh. Started hopping.”

Natasha needs a couple of seconds to process this fact. The mental image of one of her jetboots just... determinedly hopping through New York’s busy stress on its way to her is pure comedy. Laughter pours out of her like water from a spring. She laughs and laughs and laughs until tears spring to her eyes. It’s just _too_ funny! The thought of a boot just hopping down a street while onlookers stare on in confusion. She starts to say that, hiccuping in between her giggles, “That’s so— That’s _so_ —!” But in between one breath and the next, her mood makes a dramatic turn.

Her laughter turns to sobs. Her strength leaves her, knees turning to water as she clings to Steve and cries. He pulls her back in, gently rubbing her back. “It’s okay. Let it out. I’ve got you.” he repeats into her hair, over and over again. At some point, Rhodey’s cool armored hand comes to rest against her shoulder. She can feel him by her side, a silent pillar of support as she breaks down. 

She doesn’t know how long she cries, she just knows she cries so much she feels like an empty vessel afterwards. Natasha sags against Steve, eyes closed as she breathes him in. She could fall asleep like this, tucked under his chin. Natasha exhales, reluctantly pulling away when she feels Steve shifting against her. She looks up and then follows Steve’s stern gaze over to where Ty’s stirring. 

Ty’s as steady as a new-born colt, rolling up into a seated position before taking stock of his surroundings. He might not have broken any bones but he looks like a hot mess. There’s the obvious repulsor burn on his chest; it’s probably going to leave a massive scar. Which will probably drive that narcissistic fuck nuts. A thick streak of blood runs down the side of his face. His left cheek is bruised and swollen. And he looks pissed that his hands are tied up. 

_He hit his head when he fell, too,_ Natasha muses. _Probably has a concussion._

As soon as Ty’s gaze slides to them, Steve and Rhodey shift. They both move to stand in front of her, bodies rigid with tightly controlled anger as Ty sneers at them. Half a step behind them, Natasha widens her stance, repulsor ready to take Ty down again if necessary. 

“Oh _joy_ ,” Ty spits out through blood-stained teeth. “Your knights in shining armor are here.”

“Tiberius Stone,” Steve begins, “I’ve been charged by Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD, to arrest you for the kidnapping of Natasha Stark, theft of intellectual property, and assault of Dr. Selcan. The Avengers will be taking you into custody and transporting you to a secure facility where legal aid will be provided to you if you so require.”

“If you resist, we’re permitted to use whatever force necessary to subdue you and bring you in.” Rhodey sneers at the kneeling man. “ _Please_ give me a reason to knock you out.”

Ty ignores them completely. Instead, he throws his head back and laughs. “ _This_ is who you’re choosing over me?” he asks Natasha, nodding at the men. “A guy that’ll never like you back and a man who your dad wouldn’t shut up about? Your daddy issues are out of control, Cleopatra.”

“You never did know when to shut your damn mouth,” Rhodey growls, weapons ready to fire. 

But Natasha stops him with one touch to his shoulder. She sees the way Rhodey’s jaw muscle clenches but he doesn’t say anything else. Steve glances at her, the barely concealed anger in his eyes abating when their eyes meet. With the tiniest of nods his way, Natasha turns her attention back at Ty.

She’d always thought that if she ever met Ty again, she’d have so much to say to him. So many questions to ask, so many accusations to make. But now that she’s in the moment, there isn’t anything she really wants Ty to know. Except one fact. 

“They’re both better men than you could ever hope to be.”

An ugly sneer warps Ty’s handsome face. Distantly, Natasha can’t help but wonder how she ever found the man attractive. Rhodey tilts his head minutely to the left right as Steve raises one hand and presses it up against his ear and murmurs, “Target subdued.”

Ty’s attention however, is locked on her. He tries to rise up to his feet, an ugly expression on his face as he snarls. “He’s a goody two-shoes who should have died years ago. He doesn’t get you the way I do. How the hell could he? All he’ll do is drag you down in the mud with him. He didn’t even want you on his fancy team!”

Bold words from a guy who literally kidnapped her and tried to brainwash her. She plans to snark this at Ty but Steve takes a step forward, fury written all over his handsome face. Natasha stops him, fingers curling around his arm. When Steve glances back at her, Natasha shakes her head. “He’s not worth it.”

And that’s the honest truth of it. Ty doesn’t mean a damned thing to her; he hasn’t for years. She meets Steve’s gaze steadily and wonders what he’s looking for. Reassurance that she’s okay? That she means what she said? Natasha pulls up the corner of her lips in a wry smile, hoping it’ll answer whatever question is on Steve’s mind. Her attempt seems to work because some of the tension bleeds out of Steve’s shoulders. 

He exhales, slow and deep, before turning to Rhodey. “Can you take care of him?”

The grin Rhodey gives Steve is positively evil. “Count on it.”

Without another glance at Ty, Steve offers Natasha his palm and says, “Let’s go home.”

Home; the word has never sounded sweeter to Natasha. She smiles up at Steve, slips her hand into his, and nods. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

Ty, however, doesn’t seem to appreciate the fact that they’re ignoring him and starts spitting poison. He curses Natasha, calling her all manner of names and generally talking shit about her. Natasha feels Steve stiffen underneath her hand but she uses the touch to gently urge him on. Rhodey and the others are going to toss Ty into a SHIELD jail cell and that’ll be the last she’ll ever see of him. 

When she feels Steve stiffen by her side, she whispers, “Don’t listen to him. It’s all garbage.” 

Steve’s lips twist into an unhappy frown but he does as she asks, continuing towards the door.

Right as Widow shows up, not a hair out of place, Ty hisses, “A bitch like you deserves a science experiment like him. You couldn’t deal with a real man so you went and found yourself one who doesn’t have anything in him except what a bunch of scientists gave him.”

Natasha stops immediately, a flash fire burning in her immediately. There’s a lot of bullshit she’ll accept. If he wants to badmouth her, fine. Curse her? Whatever. But she draws the line on insulting Steve (and Rhodey and Pepper and her team; her family). Ty, of all people, can’t say shit about Steve. 

She turns on her heel. Rhodey’s holding Ty by the scruff of his neck. There’s a glint of mad triumph in Ty’s eyes; clearly he’s considering this some kind of victory; that he’s gotten under her skin. Sucks to be him though because Natasha plans on doing something she should have done a long, _long_ time ago: she kicks him in the balls with everything she’s got.

It happens so quickly and suddenly that even Rhodey is taken by surprise. Hands cupped over his crotch, Ty drops with a pained yelp. From the doorway, she catches the sound of a sympathetic hiss and a quiet, masculine, “youch.” Now that he’s at perfect height for a punch, Natasha draws her gauntleted fist back and slams it into Ty’s stupid jaw. The sound of metal hitting flesh will haunt her for a few days but the sight of Ty falling to the floor with a bloody nose? It’s the best kind of catharsis.

There’s a moment of silence before Rhodey says, “I wanted to do that.”

Natasha laughs. “Knowing him? You’ll get your chance as soon as he’s awake again.” 

She turns to face her team, who are watching with horrified amusement. Wow, when’d they all show up? Steve’s even shifted his shield to cover his crotch. Grinning broadly, Natasha throws her arms out and asks, “Miss me?”

It’s a little surprising, and incredibly touching, that they all move to hug her at the same time. It’s the most mismatched and awkward hug she’s found herself the center of, with Mjolnir digging into her lower back and Widow’s hair in her mouth. It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed with love for these people, especially when she feels someone drop a kiss on her hair. It could be Steve, it could be someone else. All Natasha knows, as she blinks back tears, is that she feels loved. It’s impossible to hug them all back despite her best efforts, but she hopes that her gratitude gets through when she gives each of them the biggest smile she can manage and says, “Thanks for coming for me.”

Thor makes this speech about how of course they’d come for her which Clint ruins by being Clint. Bruce smacks the back of Clint’s head and tells him to behave, which spurns the archer to whine to Steve that he’s being bullied. Steve pretends he’s hasn’t heard and goes with Natasha to help Rhodey with Ty, not that he needs the help. Natasha’s reminded of that quote from Lilo and Stitch: “This is my family. I found it all on my own. It’s little and broken, but still good. Ya. Still good.”

The quote rattles around in her head as Bruce helps her into the quinjet and Widow bandages her wounds, clicking her tongue when she sees the repulsor burns. As Rhodey and Steve take hold of a hand each and keep her grounded for the rest of the flight. They let go of her as soon as they land because Pepper’s standing there, waiting for them to land and Natasha needs to walk up to Pepper herself and ask, “Miss me?”

“Like a wart,” Pepper teases, tears brimming in her eyes. Her lips do a dangerous wobble, smile collapsing as she reaches out to hug Natasha. Natasha relaxes into Pepper’s arms, rubbing her back as she cries. “I was so worried! You’re not hurt are you? Do you need anything?”

“I’ve got everything I need right here,” Natasha tells her, beaming at Pepper before she’s pulled into the rec room. Food is the first order of business. Clint pushes a PB&J sandwich with too much jelly and the crusts cut off into her hands and tells her to eat up. Thor flies into the Tower, a good fifteen minutes after the rest of them have arrived, with her jet boot in his hand and an apology on his lips. “I may have crushed it a little,” he says as he drops the boot at her feet.

“It’s alright,” Natasha says. She’d rather have a hundred broken suits than have Thor look so upset that he’s broken something of hers. She presses a quick kiss to his cheek before beaming at him. “Thanks for bringing it home.”

“To be fair, it’d have shown up here anyways. He just sped that up.” Clint points out.

“I’m glad he did. Last thing I want is to be woken up in the dead of night because a damn jet boot tripped off some alarms.” Rhodey adds his two cents.

Back when she was young, she’d never thought she could have a group of friends like this. Finding Rhodey had always felt like a gift. Happy and Pepper coming into her life had felt like a miracle. She’d always thought that’s as far as her circle would grow. As she leans deeper into Steve’s side, giving into the pleasant drowsiness that’s taking over, she’s glad to be wrong.

She must fall asleep at some point because the next thing she knows, Steve’s whispering to JARVIS to open the door please. Natasha raises her head off Steve’s shoulder, swallowing as she peers into the dark. “Where’re we?” she slurs, squinting into the dark. This doesn’t look like her room...

“My room.”

“Ah,” she nods before pausing. “How come?”

“It was closer,” Steve answers. The lighting isn’t the best (it’s only at 15%) but she’s close enough to Steve’s face to see the color that blooms on his cheeks.

“Closer huh?” she teases, leaning up press her nose against his warm cheek. “Was that the only reason?”

Steve’s grip tightens on her. His voice goes low and rough as he admits, “I don’t think I can let you go tonight. You don’t know how I... I just...” He takes a few deep breaths. Natasha closes her eyes and patiently waits for him to gather his thoughts. “Please stay?” Steve asks softly.

Natasha smiles and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. How can she ever say no to this sweet man? “I’m going to need a change of clothes. I can’t sleep in these.” 

Steve carries her into the ensuite bathroom and leaves her leaning against the sink while he goes to get her a change of clothes. Natasha takes the opportunity to examine the space. Steve’s suite was one of the few places she hadn’t had any input in; she’d left that up to Pepper. It’s very classy. More modern than anything she’d have suggested. 

“You know,” she begins loudly, “I never asked you how you liked your floor.”

Steve’s faint reply floats in through the open door. “It’s pretty nice. Took some getting used to at first.”

“How come?”

“I tripped a couple of times in the sunken living room area.” Steve’s voice draws closer. She smiles at his grumbling tone. He walks back into the bathroom with a T-shirt and pair of shorts in his hands. “Don’t see why one part of the room’s gotta be a whole two foot lower than the rest. I hope these are okay.”

“Thank you,” Natasha accepts the clothes. “Also I meant your _floor_ ,” she elaborates, making a lazy circle with her finger. “The suite and all that.”

“Oh. Um. That also took some getting used to. It’s a lot of space for one person. Plus, there’s a genuine Pollock hanging in the kitchen. I nearly passed out when Pepper told me it was real.”

She laughs at Steve’s pained expression and regrets it almost instantaneously as the move aggravates her sore muscles and her burns. Natasha hisses, curling into herself before exhaling, “Fuck. Don’t make me laugh.”

Looking up, she sees Steve’s concerned form standing next to her. His hand is hovering over her arm but he doesn’t touch her. She stares at his hand for a long moment before telling him, “You can touch me. I won’t break.”

“That’s not it...” She waits patiently, peering up at Steve for an explanation. Steve exhales before he lets his hand drop on her arm. “I… When we… There was this control room a couple of floors down from where Stone was keeping you sedated. There were a bunch of monitors. We saw what he was making you dream. You and me, in your room...” His palm gently rubs her bicep. “If you need me to go, I’ll go. The last thing I want to do is make you feel unsafe.”

It’s mildly humiliating to know that the whole team saw Natasha at her weakest point. But that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, she reaches out to reassure Steve. “You make me feel _safe_. Some part of me recognized Ty’s bullshit and resisted. I... I need you. I can’t...”

Words fail her. Not because she doesn’t know what to say, but because her throat swells up. Natasha blinks tears back because she needs Steve to understand that he still saved her. Steve lets out a soft wounded noise before he gently cups her cheeks, blue eyes steady despite the sympathetic ache burning in them. Her eyes flutter shut. His hands are so warm, so gentle. Natasha exhales. “I just need _you_. Steve Rogers. That’s it.”

“You’ve got me,” Steve promises in a husky whisper.

Something between a whimper and a sob catches in her throat when she feels Steve brush a kiss against her forehead. Then her eyes, her cheeks. Her heart races inside her chest, fingers holding onto Steve for dear life as she hopes _please, please let him kiss her, please_. It’s possible that she says her wish out loud because Steve’s soft whisper brushes over her lips, “Shh. I’ve got you,” seconds before he kisses her.

She melts like chocolate on a hot day. Steve applies the perfect amount of pressure. His lips are delightfully soft and tender. They’re so gentle. Natasha feels treasured and loved; no one’s ever made her feel this way with just a kiss. Well, a case could be made that no one’s made her feel this way _ever_. But this isn’t the time for such downer thoughts. Nope, this is the point where she’s going to sink her hair into Steve’s hair and turn this kiss _filthy_.

One lick and Steve’s the one who melts against her. Natasha shivers as Steve’s hands relocate to her waist, opening her mouth to invite Steve in, but then his hand accidentally grazes the bandage on her side and she has to break away with a hiss. Side note: _fuck_ repulsor burns and how they hurt worse then usual burns.

Steve looks adorably confused but the second he realizes why Natasha’s pulled away, his flushed face turns pale. “Oh fu— I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

Natasha waves the question away, wanting to go back to kissing Steve, but he’s pulling her shirt up and peering with concern at the bandages. “Did you get this checked out by a medic?” Steve asks, eyes darting between the gauze and her annoyed gaze. 

This is the last thing she wants to talk about. She grabs Steve’s face and tries to pull him down to her level. “I’ll go in the morning. Widow gave me first aid and Bruce gave me some painkillers. I’ll be fine for the night.”

Face smushed between her hands, Steve’s frown looks utterly ridiculous. Natasha wishes she had a third hand just so that she could take a picture of this face. “I think you should go to a doctor.”

“ _I_ think you should kiss me some more and see where this goes.” Natasha grumbles but lets Steve go. He shoots her a warning look before going back to checking Widow’s work. For her part, Natasha decides to humor Steve. Right up until he gently tugs down the waistband of her jeans to get a better look. “You’re going to have to take me out to dinner first, champ,” she teases.

Steve’s narrowed eyed look of confusion morphs into embarrassed surprise. He _literally_ jumps away from her, hands up as he babbles apologies. Natasha bites her lip to keep from laughing because that’d be inappropriate, right? Before she can tell Steve that it’s alright, he’s already backed out of the bathroom, saying, “I’ll let you change.” and closes the door.

She turns towards the mirror and wryly tells herself, “Nice going.”

Oof. She looks like a fucking mess. Natasha runs a hand through her hair, grimacing at how greasy it feels. There are a couple of epic tangles in the strands that have her looking around for a brush. The best she finds is a plain black comb and she uses it to gently work knots free. She shoots the shower a longing look but that’s going to have to wait; she’s got no way to protect her current dressing. Instead, Natasha makes do by cleaning herself up with a wet washcloth and dunking her head under the sink tap. 

_Don’t feel so dirty now_ , she thinks to herself as she slips her underwear back on and reaches for the clothes Steve’s brought her. The T-shirt hangs off her like a dress. The shorts though? Completely useless. Even if she tightens the draw strings to their limit, they still wind up pooling around her feet. By this point, Natasha’s running on fumes and decides, _fuck it_.

She shoves her grimy clothes into a corner and tells JARVIS, “Make sure those get burned. And I don’t mean the usual dry cleaning. I mean _actually_ burned.”

“I will inform the maids,” the AI dutifully responds.

Last decision of the day made, Natasha opens the bathroom door right in time to see Steve pulling a white tee over his torso. He turns around with a smile, eyes widening when he sees her. And all Natasha wants then, as she takes in the sight of him, with his helmet hair, too long sweats, and bare toes, is to crawl into bed with Steve. 

The desire to _connect_ is overwhelming. It’s stronger than hunger, emanating from a deeper place. Maybe her soul? Who knows. She just knows that she walks up to Steve, presses her hands against his chest, and kisses him, swallowing his startled little noise. There’s a faint aftertaste of peanut butter on his tongue that she chases after. Despite his surprise, Steve kisses back, tentative touch coming to rest on the curve of her waist. Instead of being a balm to the ache in her core, the kiss fans the flames. 

Desperation wells in her, making her curl one leg around Steve’s waist. She moans when she feels Steve’s hand curl under her thigh, steadying her enough to hop up and wrap herself around him. _Not enough, not enough_ , her heart cries. Tears prickle the back of her eyelids as she deepens the kiss. One hand slides under Steve’s shirt. She needs to feel more, harder, deeper. She rakes her nails against his shoulder blades right as she squeezes her thighs. The reaction that evokes in Steve is _inspirational_ —he gasps, shivers, and staggers back. His teeth accidentally nip her lip and that’s it. That’s what she needs. Just that tiny bit of hurt to keep her feet on the ground.

Her burn wounds throb in time with her racing heart. Natasha wriggles in place, moaning when she gets it right and manages to grind her sex against Steve’s. Sparks of pleasure fly in her at the contact. Now that they’re horizontal, Natasha can push Steve’s sweatpants out of the way and take him into her shaking hand. Orgasms are a natural painkiller so her hurt is going to be a non-issue soon enough. 

A firm grip on her wrist has her pulling away with a pained noise. _Why?_ She opens her mouth to ask but Steve’s pained gaze has her pausing. “Natasha...” he starts, shaking his head slightly before he continues, “you should rest.”

“Need you more,” Natasha pleads, wanting Steve to understand. “Need to feel you.” God. Why doesn’t he understand? How can she make him understand that if she doesn’t... if they don’t... she’s going to fly to pieces. Her self control, already tested to its breaking point, threatens to snap. The cry that’s been building in her since before waking from Ty’s DreamVision machine presses against the back of her teeth. She fists her hands into Steve’s rucked up shirt but it doesn’t stop them from trembling. 

She needs... she...

Steve wraps a palm around one of her fists. His touch is warm and dry and gentle. Gentler than it has any right being. And that’s the thing that breaks her. 

“Please let me feel you,” Natasha pleads, in her eyes. “I need to feel... I... I need...”

Her vision goes blurry, tears coming thick and fast. Natasha tries to blink them away but there’s no stopping them from trailing down her cheeks and dropping onto Steve’s chest. Steve watches her cry, expression torn before he admits roughly, “I don’t want to hurt you. After what Stone did to you... I don’t think it’s a good idea...”

With a helpless shrug, Natasha offers Steve the only answer she knows is true, “You make me feel safe. I need to feel that it’s _you_.” 

Steve’s expression... it’s like seeing the birth of a new universe. It’s like creating a new element. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. There’s wonder, awe, love all swirling together into a look that makes Natasha’s knees weak. She can’t bear the tenderness of it and collapses into him. “You couldn’t hurt me,” she whispers into his cheek. “Not in this way.”

A shudder runs through Steve before he places his hands on her hips. The tip of one his fingers teases the edge of her panties. She hears Steve swallow roughly and turns her face to kiss his Adam’s apple, his chin, the stubble coming in. “Tell me what you need.” Steve murmurs into her hair.

“Hold me,” Natasha whispers back immediately. “Show me how you feel. Show me you’re real and here.”

She lets Steve roll them over so that she’s safe between his arms. His serious eyes peer down at her, watching her as he pulls the thin T-shirt off her form. Natasha smiles at him, feeling something in her settle when their bare chests connect. She closes her eyes and revels in the gentle kisses Steve peppers over her skin, hissing when he worries her nipples with tongue, teeth, and lips. A storm rolls through her; wind, rain and destruction. Her back arches, seeking more of Steve’s heat, a gratified cry rising when Steve obliges and kisses his way down.

He brushes butterfly kisses on her belly, on the bandages wrapped around her side, on her injured wrist. Natasha expects him to tease her. That he’ll bypass her sex and kiss her thighs instead. Or maybe he’ll touch her through her panties. But as soon as Steve’s dragged her panties off, he’s burying his face between her thighs. A surprised yelp and her legs fall open, welcoming Steve. Natasha grabs whatever she can, a pillow and Steve’s hair, and bucks her hips. A mistake because it aggravates her burn wounds. Steve immediately looks up at her pained cry and God. _God_. Let this be how she goes, with the sight of Steve’s slick-wet lips saying her name and asking her if she’s okay.

“Yeah,” Natasha pants, wondering how she looks from Steve’s perspective. Her concern flies out of her head as the flat of Steve’s tongue drags against her clit. She feels too big for her skin, so hot that she’s going to melt through the bed. The only thing keeping her there, squirming against the bed, are Steve’s hands on her sweaty thighs. Every inhale feels like a struggle because no matter how deep she breathes, it’s not enough. Her lungs are on fire and breathing is secondary honestly, compared to licking Steve’s lips clean and grinding her wet pussy-lips against Steve’s hard cock.

She feels like she’s going to fly apart at any second now. If she loses contact with Steve, she’s going to float off into space. But then oh, glorious connection. Natasha sucks in a breath and feels gold pouring into her, seeping in between the cracks and solidifying under the intense heat of Steve’s gaze. Everything sharpens, from grainy 240p to 4k clarity. The drag of Steve’s leg hair against hers has her shivering. There’s a fine tremor running through Steve’s arms. His lips are dry but so soft. Her index finger catches a sweat drop running down Steve’s back and smears it into his skin. He smells like clean sweat and dust. Natasha’s stomach flips when he asks, “Everything okay?”

Blinking up at him, Natasha takes a moment. Commits to memory the sight of Steve’s self-control in action. The tremor has expanded to take over the rest of him but he doesn’t move. He stays root-deep in her and waits, pleasurably agony kept at bay until she gives her okay. She reaches up to cup his cheek, strokes a red cheek, and sinks her hand into his hair. Using the grip, Natasha pulls Steve down and whispers against his lips, “Fuck me already, Steve.”

“Don’t wanna fuck you,” Steve grumbles, body relaxing now that he’s on his elbows. “Wanna love you.”

There’s no stopping herself from grinning. Natasha squeezes around his girth and corrects herself, “Love me already Steve.”

Steve’s laugh is this choked off sound that makes her want to throw her head back and laugh in delight. But Steve also pulls out and thrusts back in. “Thought I was doing that for a while now,” he pants against her cheek.

_For how long?_ Natasha bemoans as a particular thrust sends sparks flying. _How did you show me?_ She pants, arching her back when Steve kisses her arc reactor. _How long have you been in love with me?_ Knowing that Steve loves her makes her link their hands together and ride him with tender sweetness. _What else have I been missing?_ Natasha melts as Steve comes deep in her. _Please let me keep him_ . She pleads, breathless and boneless as Steve presses a lazy kiss to her hipbone, fingers lazily playing with her sex and sending pulses of residual desire slithering through her. _I love you too, so damn much_ , she thinks she mumbles into his skin right before falling asleep.

Natasha wakes up to the sound of soft conversation happening somewhere nearby. Muzzily, she raises her head and glances around looking for the source. The space next to her is warm, the sheets rumpled. But no Steve. Actually, Steve’s standing at the door, talking to someone... _Bruce?_ She wonders, wondering why her brain feels like someone stuffed it with cotton.

The soft static slowly recedes and things start to make more sense. She takes a moment of luxuriate in the ache between her thighs and her sore muscles, to roll over to Steve’s side and soak in what’s left of his warmth, and to hide her smile in the sheets. Natasha’s planning a little more self-indulgence but she hears Bruce say “her injuries” and sits up.

“I will,” Steve’s saying quietly. “Once she’s awake.”

“Once I’m awake, what?” she asks, frowning at how raspy her voice is. Yikes. She needs some water or something.

At the door, Steve starts and whips around to stare at her. “Is that her?” Bruce asks, louder now. She catches sight of his dark head of hair before Steve’s pushing him out with a hissed, “She’s _naked_ , Bruce. Jeez!”

She’s too far away to know for sure but it seems to her that Steve’s turning a delightful shade of pink when Bruce asks, voice dripping with amusement. “And _why_ is she naked?” 

“None of your beeswax, mister. We’ll be down in a bit for breakfast.” Declaration made, Steve closes the door on Bruce and turns around to face her. She preens, lounging against the headboard when Steve’s gaze drops to her bare chest.

Natasha sniggers as Bruce yells at them not to get distracted and Steve manfully tries to ignore the other man. “If you’re not out in the next twenty minutes, you guys’ll have to deal with Thor yourself.”

“Would telling him that we’re together and in need of alone time be a good enough excuse to skip the all day breakfast thing Thor’s planned?” she asks Steve as he walks back to bed. It’s a tremendous shame that he’s wearing sweatpants but he’s also freeballing it so, partial win. 

“You know how Thor gets about breakfast,” Steve sighs as he moves to her side of the bed. She obligingly scoots over to make room for him to sit next to her. He’s a study in casual attractiveness with the way he sits with one leg curled on the mattress and the other hanging off the bed. The teasing grin he’s giving her makes her ache for a camera; if only there was some way to memorialize this moment without relying on just her memory. “He’ll drag us out of here saying we need the calories. Especially you.”

Pausing to blink, Natasha asks, “Why especially me?”

“Super soldier stamina,” Steve answers with a touch of wry humor.

Natasha needs to point out the obvious here. “Women have a natural ability for multiple orgasms. I can match your stamina _any_ day, bud.” She emphasizes her point by poking Steve in a pectoral muscle. His skin is clear and free of all the marks she’d left the night before. _Pity_ , she muses, fingers turning exploratory. Shades of love-red suit Steve’s fair skin. She makes a mental note: experiment with Steve’s healing factor. How long does it take for a hickey to fade from his skin? What about nail marks? So many delightful things to study and take note on. 

“Okay.” 

_That_ pulls her back into the moment. Distracted not only by the fact that Steve’s gently taking hold of her hand but also his placating tone, Natasha scowls. “I _can_!”

“I believe you.”

“It doesn’t sound like you do!” She punctuates her complaint with a kick but Steve catches her ankle before the gentle blow can land. And then strokes the delicate skin with his thumb. The delicate touch sends shivers down her spine. “Want me to prove it?”

Natasha intends the question to be teasing but Steve’s touch drags it over the line and into a flirtatious invitation. She sees Steve’s interest come alive, gaze sliding down her naked body, sweet and thick as molasses. A deliberate shift and the sheets dip, revealing her pubic hair to Steve’s heated gaze.

When Steve’s hand slides up her leg, Natasha’s throat goes dry with anticipation. She hadn’t planned on morning sex but she’s not going to say no to— wait. She scowls at Steve’s hand as it wraps the sheets around her hips. “Breakfast first. You need the calories.”

“ _What’s that supposed to mean?”_ Natasha exclaims, forgetting everything in favor of grabbing Steve by the arm and shaking him as she demands. “What the hell are you trying to say! That better not be a knock on my age or else I’m gonna kick your ass!”

Steve stops her tirade with a well-timed kiss, grinning as he says, “I’d never imply something like that.”

Pouting, Natasha asks, “There’s no way I can keep you in bed?”

She closes her eyes to accept Steve’s next kiss; it lands on the tip of her nose. “We’ll be back in bed as soon as we’re done eating,” he promises, smirking as he continues, “I haven’t had my fill of eating you yet.”

“Fuck,” Natasha groans. “I’m gonna hold you to that Steve.”

“ _You’re_ the one who promised multiple orgasms.”

As she slides out of bed in search of the tee Steve’d loaned her, Natasha wonders if she wants to be persnickety and correct him that she didn’t promise anything, she just said she was capable of them as much as Steve. Eh, whatever. It’s a dumb point to get picky about. Instead, she bends down to grab her panties, saying, “I hope Thor’s made pancakes.”

Despite her desire to get back in bed with Steve as quickly as possible, Natasha finds herself lingering at the dining table long after she’s done eating. Thor slides a fresh pile of waffles in front of her, telling her that he’s made them “perfectly” to her liking. When Thor isn’t looking, she pushes a couple of them onto Steve’s plate, who sits on her right, and to Bruce, who sits on her left. Widow makes sure the coffee is flowing, topping her mug every time it comes close to emptying. Clint’s at the stove, making grilled cheese sandwiches because “I need some fucking salt after all these pancakes.”

Conversation flows like water, threads intermingling and overflowing. Widow runs her fingertips across Natasha’s shoulders as she passes by. Steve leans back in his seat, asking Clint what cheeses he’s using in his sandwich. Thor stands behind Bruce, staring with great suspicion at his plate and then Natasha’s plate before asking, “If you were hungry, I would have made waffles for you as well. I shall do that right away!”

Bruce tries to tell Thor he’s not hungry but it’s too late. Thor’s opening the fridge and taking out more eggs. Rhodey’s a step ahead, grinning as he hands Thor a bowl and a whisk. “Can I at least get some eggs to go with it?” Bruce asks, turning his request towards Clint.

“Scrambled okay?” the archer asks as he steals two eggs from Thor.

It’s delightful pandemonium. Natasha grins into her cup, feeling content and happy. And most importantly, loved. At one point, Rhodey catches her eye and grins. _Can you believe this?_ He silently asks her and she shakes her head. She’s smiling so hard her cheeks are starting to ache. Several minutes later, Steve leans in to whisper in her ear, “Do you want to go back to your room? You look a little tired.”

Shaking her head, Natasha answers. “I want to stay a little while longer.” She doesn’t know how to explain this yearning that’s pulsing inside of her. How after days of isolation, being in the middle of her family is all she needs. After a moment’s hesitation, Natasha admits, “I missed you all.”

Steve squeezes her thigh, eyes sparkling. “We’d missed you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Please look forward to the Steve POV/counterpart I'll be writing next year! 
> 
> If there's any tag you feel like I've missed, please let me know!


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